


Broken Chemistry

by SCD07



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Clubbing, Dancing, Digital Art, Drugs, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Music, Protective Arthur, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 157,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCD07/pseuds/SCD07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is a transfer student in his new university, and so far, he is making great friends with a circle of people; the only one who seems to have any issue with him is a young man named Arthur. Forced to be chemistry partners by Arthur's sister and fellow classmate, Morgana, Arthur and Merlin find themselves constantly brought together by their mutual friends. The result of such bonding, remains to be seen.</p><p>Arthur comes from a broken and emotionally abusive home, but he ultimately finds solace in the annoyingly optimistic and artistic Merlin, whose reasons for transferring schools are shrouded in mystery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Company

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! :) If you're from my Eruri stories, I'm so glad you're exploring a new genre of fanfiction with me! If you're new here and you like Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin, check out [Anonymous](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3956662/chapters/8872096) or my other works :)  
> Enjoy!  
> PLEASE NOTE: you'll notice that I've taken liberties with the story, such as with character descriptions. I feel weird placing Colin, Bradley, and the other wonderful actors in my mind's eye for this story, but by all means, follow my descriptions or use those gorgeous actors for your imagination :)

Merlin eyed the amber fluid and the bubbles dancing to the foamy surface as it poured from the tap and slid over the lacquered wood of the bar before he ventured a sip. His lips had not even indented the foam when Gwaine guffawed, “I said take a drink, not kiss the head!” before promptly shoving Merlin’s face over the brim of the glass.

The result was having beer sop down his blue scarf and graphic tee, along with a harsh, red line across the bridge of his nose. Merlin managed to catch his spectacles before they plunked in his drink or shattered on the bar.

“Oh, shit.” Gwaine had the grace to stop laughing and rushed to get towels.

Merlin heard a soft laugh on his other side and felt Lancel carefully unwinding the scarf from his neck before wringing out the beer from it. “Here,” he offered, sliding his wine glass over, “Gwaine only drinks wine when he's desperate, so he should leave you alone about it.”

Merline cleansed his palette with water before politely declining the offer and deciding to keep the evening sober.

“May I ask why you’re wearing a scarf?” Lancel inquired, and Merlin could hear the smile in his voice.

“It was cold this morning,” he defended mildly, and then peered down at his shirt. “Also…I haven’t managed to get the stain out of the collar.”

Lancel’s gaze dropped to the stain mentioned: a rich, crimson scattering, like tie-dye gone wrong. At that moment, Gwaine crashed into the bar, throwing a heap of dishtowels over Merlin. Gwaine was not remotely drunk, it was just his way: crash first, apologize later.

Merlin glanced between his two roommates whom he’d only just met that morning. It had been Gwaine’s idea to visit the pub around the corner from campus, and Lancel had softly nodded his consent before they practically hauled Merlin from their dorm room. They were not diametric in appearance: both had kind, brown eyes and dark hair, however beyond that it was a wonder how they tolerated one another. Lancel was rather like his straight hair that he unconsciously flipped to the side on occasion: he was straight-laced, simple, and was not bothered by much. Over the course of the day, he seemed to both literally and figuratively brush things aside if they bothered him, and went on his merry way. Gwaine was a train wreck, albeit a beautiful one. His dark locks made a wavy mess that he might shake out of his face every now and then, but usually he let it be. So far, Merlin had noticed he had a brush for taming it on special occasions, and he was raking a hand through it now, revealing an apologetic expression.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he confessed, and then on a lighter note said, “Maybe a messy start will keep the rest of the year clean, though, ay?”

Lancel gave him a dubious expression. “I’m not sure life works like that, especially where you’re concerned.”

Merlin dropped his chin, failing to hide his giggle as Gwaine gave them both a theatrically offended look. “After everything I’ve done for you!”

“I haven’t known you a day,” Merlin retorted.

“I’ve known you too long,” Lancel joined.

“You’re a pair of bloody traitors is what you are,” Gwaine declared, but a wide grin was on his face. “So, Merlin, how were your classes today?”

He shrugged but he sat up straighter. “All right, I suppose. We just received our syllabi and a first assignment.”

Gwaine grimaced at the notion of homework, but Lancel asked, “You mentioned you were a graphic artist before, right? What’s the assignment?”

He nodded eagerly and explained, “It’s just a shadow study. We have to create a simple image that we can replicate four times using different methods or times of shading.”

“Times of shading?” Gwaine repeated.

“Like how Monet painted haystacks at different times of the day to explore shadow and color?” Merlin reiterated. “It’s like that.”

“But it’s on a computer,” Lancel added.

“I didn’t know you were into the arts, Lancel,” Gwaine teased as he leaned back on the bar, perusing the matrons of the establishment.

Lancel returned, “I spend enough time out of my cups to know what other studies this university offers.”

“That’s a shame,” Gwaine uttered distractedly. “Now if you will excuse me, there is a blond ass I must smack.”

Merlin’s lips frowned while his eyes went wide. He and Lancel followed Gwaine’s path across the field of booths and tables to where a tall blond man and a swarthy female had just entered. Merlin frowned, not understanding what ‘blond ass’ Gwaine had been referring, and then his palm connected with the man’s jeans.

“Oh! I didn’t think…” Merlin clamped his mouth shut.

Lancel was shaking his head with an amusing curve to his lips. “No, he’s just shameless.” He glanced at Merlin and then did a double take at Merlin’s incredibly anxious expression. “Hey, no worries. We don’t care if you’re gay.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped as he hastily tried to deny Lancel’s assumption. “N-NO! No, I just, uh, that sort of thing didn’t happen at my other school. Not that I mind, either! I just wasn’t expecting…”

Lancel laughed and placed a gentle hand on his nape. “Merlin, it’s okay. Really. I mean, sure, the dean of our school has a…reputation, but it’s not like you’ll be dealing with him on a regular basis. Not to mention his son’s bisexual.”

Merlin frowned, not understanding why Lancel was mentioning one of the many deans of the school’s offspring. “Son?”

Lancel gave him a vacant look and then realized, “Oh! Shit—duh—I’m sorry, of course you don’t know Arthur! I forgot you’re a transfer student. He’s the blonde Gwaine just groped. That’s his girlfriend, Gwen.”

“Oh…” Merlin nodded, feeling oddly relieved. A weight had so abruptly been lifted off his shoulders, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. “She’s lovely.”

“Isn’t she?” Lancel smiled again. “Beautiful inside and out. You’ll never meet anyone sweeter.”

Merlin observed how her wavy bob allowed her dangly earrings to hit the light and sparkle. Her warm, chocolate skin absorbed the light, and the only makeup she seemed to be wearing was a slight touch of red on her lips. Her boyfriend, Arthur, had his back to them and was chatting up Gwaine and some other people who’d gathered to greet him in the middle of the floor.

Merlin’s phone vibrated the same time Lancel inquired, “Do you want to meet them?”

“Hmm? Oh, shit, sorry. No, I better be getting back. I have an eight-thirty tomorrow, but I’m meeting me advisor before that.”

“Woah, you’ve got a full day ahead. That’s fine, go on; just be prepared to get chewed over by Gwaine if he hears you left a bar at ten-thirty.”

Lancel smiled and waved him out, promising to get Gwaine back to the room as quietly as he could. Merlin went on back to their dorm and tossed his shirt and scarf in the laundry bag before changing into soft shorts and a t-shirt that was so large it fell off one of his shoulders. The room had its own small bathroom, so he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and cleaned his glasses for the morning. Merlin was glad he’d managed to win rock-paper-scissors and gotten the bed by the window; he opened it to let in the late summer breeze. With the smell of the coast and honeysuckle wafting in the room as he nestled in his mountain of pillows, Merlin fainted easily.

The following morning he went to his advisor’s office, only to find a note wedged in the locked door telling him to meet Professor Gaius in the dining hall. Merlin was puzzled initially, but he was immediately glad to find the elderly man waiting for him with a bagel topped with roasted onions and garlic with cheese and prosciutto sandwiched inside.

“Good morning, Merlin!” he grinned a bright smile. His own spectacles rested atop his head, holding back his fluffy, white tresses while he ate. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like something savory or sweet. I also have this one with cinnamon cream cheese, if you’d like.”

One of the reasons Merlin had chosen this school to transfer to: Gaius. He was an old acquaintance of his mother’s, but he knew the man well enough to trust his judgment, and the man liked him well enough to supply him with ready breakfast options. Merlin could only nod eagerly as he chewed one bagel and swiped cream cheese across the other.

“How was your first day?” Gaius inquired.

“Uneventful, but fine,” Merlin answered before engulfing another bite.

“You have different classes today,” the man recalled. “In half an hour, yes?”

Merlin nodded, fighting to gulp before saying, “Chemistry lab.”

Professor Gaius’s eyes lit up as he cut into his fruit. “Your mother mentioned you enjoyed the outdoors. A concentration in environmental studies is a curious subject when you’re majoring in the arts and minoring in philosophy.”

Merlin tumbled his food in his mouth, swallowed, and replied, “I like being outside, but…I've always been surrounded by art. Philosophy gives me a headache, but it teaches me how to think differently.”

Gaius’s eyes lifted. “Oh I’m not criticizing you, dear boy. Your interests vary and are what make you unique. I don’t want to keep you from your first class, though; you best be heading off. I’ll see you at three-thirty today.”

Merlin had never removed his rucksack, so he piled the bagels and cradled them against his chest as he hurried to his morning lab. Swiveling his head left and right, he scanned the sterile corridor for the correct room number until he found it and rushed in so he was not late.

Turns out, the laboratory was on a slight incline, and Merlin’s toes collided with the threshold, catapulting his lanky form. Merlin yelped the same time a low voice exclaimed, and Merlin saw his bagels plaster themselves to the torso of a large figure while coins were strewn by Merlin’s flailing limbs.

Merlin felt large, strong hands clutch his ribcage, and after a second of staring at the slate floors, waiting for them to meet his face, Merlin was placed back on his feet.

“Wow, thank goodness you’ve more finesse than—” he began, his tongue flying with the words, begging to get his apologies out of his mouth, but then he looked up into eyes that were blue and molten like water, framed by gold tresses dusting over the darker brows. Merlin swallowed only to feel his throat was dry. “I-I’m sor—”

“Charming. Just _charming,”_ the blonde curtailed angrily. Merlin followed his line of sight to the two halves of a bagel cemented to his V-neck shirt, and the thin slice of prosciutto that Merlin hadn’t managed to finish. The rest of the unfinished bagel was on the blonde’s shoes, which stood over the scattered coins Merlin had knocked from his hand. Merlin ducked down to hide his embarrassment as well as to pick up some of the coins as he examined those shoes in a matter of seconds: oxblood leather chukka boots, but not the kind that hipsters go hiking in. These looked straight out of a designer’s workshop and could not be less than three hundred dollars.

Which could only mean…

Merlin’s eyes jerked up widely, absorbing that blond hair, wide shoulders, the confident stance… “Are you—?”

“Pissed off? _Yes,_ I am,” Arthur snapped. Merlin scowled, leaving the coins where they were and dumping the ones he had gathered in Arthur's palm. It was just some white cheddar and bread on his laces, nothing to tangle his hair over, and the shirt looked like it could easily be replaced with something from an outlet store.

He glared at Merlin’s fingers peeling off the bagel slices from his body. “Well you really shouldn’t be wearing designer shoes to a laboratory anyway.”

“This isn’t about my shoes,” Arthur returned patiently, like he was speaking to a child, but his tone quickly fired back up to a boil. “This is about your idiocy! Learn how to walk properly, and for gods sake, put your fucking breakfast in a bag.”

“It’s lunch,” Merlin spat, making a point to hold the slices like they were toxic as he leaned toward the rubbish bin. “Though not anymore with your vile lint all over it.”

 _“Vile?”_ Arthur looked as if he’d never been spoken to in his life, and what with being the dean’s son, Merlin reckoned he hadn’t.

Merlin clapped his hands over the trash bin, theatrically ridding them of crumbs. “I know how art works, and with fashion, everything depends on the wearer. Your attitude is not living up to your raiment’s potential.”

Arthur stared at him, dumbfounded for a brief moment before he guffawed. “Coming from _you?_ With that awful shirt, barbaric jeans, and, jesus christ, a scarf in September! You haven’t even noticed that your fake, hipster glasses are broken!”

Merlin’s expression went blank and he delicately pulled off his glasses to squint at a fine white crack along the corner of one of the lenses. He had to hold it inches from his face to see it, but his eyes widened. “No, this is my only pair!” he complained quietly to himself, and then balanced them on the bridge of his nose to glare at Arthur. “This is your faul—!”

“Gentlemen,” came an authoritative voice. “Please stop squabbling and take your seats.”

Merlin and Arthur glanced at the lab instructor wearing his telltale white coat with safety goggles resting on his dark scalp. “Sorry, Dr. Agravaine,” Arthur announced diplomatically, all traces of frustration eliminated from his voice.

“It’s all right, Mr. Pendragon,” the teacher approved. Merlin scowled on the way to an empty chair. _Pendragon. Pretentious and pompous run in your veins, don't they?_ he thought inwardly.

Today’s schedule was so full that Merlin was already dreading his lack of a lunch break, and certainly his lack of a lunch. As he flipped through the laboratory manual while Dr. Agravaine instructed, Merlin glanced up, down, and then back up when he felt eyes on him. He found them immediately in the young woman sitting diagonally from him.

An incredibly beautiful woman.

She had black hair like Merlin, but hers was long and rippled down her back. Her turquoise eyes shone brightly even from this distance, and her full, pink lips smiled guiltily at being caught. Merlin goofily smiled back. She looked like someone from old Hollywood, with her sculpted bone structure of strong features and elegant eyes, mouth, and her creamy complexion. Really, her only flaw was that her hair was slightly mussed, as if she’d just leaped out of bed like everyone else here. And that wasn’t even a flaw in Merlin’s eyes.

Then she leaned to her other side, away from Merlin, and whispered something in a man’s ear, whom Merlin realized was Arthur. He stared only long enough to watch the blonde lean into her to listen, and then Merlin looked away before Arthur’s gaze found him. Unable to help himself, though, a second later Merlin peered across the room, just in time to see Arthur grimacing in his direction and shaking his head at the woman.

Merlin couldn’t be happier that he had skipped meeting Arthur the night before. So far, he seemed the type of person that Merlin would not only need to steer clear from, but would gladly do so.

And then his reverie shattered when the professor declared that the person next to you would be your lab partner for the entirety of the semester. Merlin looked around him, only to see that he was the only one on his end of the long counter. He scanned the room for odd numbers…but there weren’t any. Merlin was the odd one out.

 _Story of my life_ he narrated placidly, resuming his slouched position over the counter, until his gaze was yanked sideways by Arthur hissing, “Morgana!”

The woman was heading right for Merlin. Her fingertips grazed across the counter as she rounded it, and leaned her hip over the edge of the seat next to him, settling beside him. She smiled sweetly at him before shooting an expectant stare at Arthur, “Well come on. We’ll be a group of three.”

A rush of sentiment surged in Merlin’s chest. He felt immensely grateful for Morgana’s action, but annoyance also crept in as he met Arthur’s glare when the blonde trudged to the seat on Merlin’s other side.

“Thank you, but I really don’t mind working alone,” he offered.

Morgana gave him a blunt stare and reproached kindly, “Don’t be ridiculous. Trust me, you’ll want the help. Our uncle won’t take pity on you if you’re without a partner.”

Merlin blinked. “Our…?”

She smiled again. “I’m Morgana, Arthur’s sister. That git who was too rude to introduce himself to you earlier,” she added with a gesture at Arthur.

Her brother said nothing, but as Merlin glanced between them, he noticed a resemblance in their stances: both were incredibly confident individuals, with strong, yet not overpowering bone structures.

“I’m Merlin,” he returned, and his head swiveled when Arthur scoffed.

 _“Merlin?_ What sort of name is…well, our father’s name is Uther for christ’s sake, so I won’t hold your parents’ choice against you.”

Merlin wasn’t sure if he was being insulted or if this was Arthur’s way of being gallant. He chose to direct the conversation toward Morgana while Dr. Agravaine passed out the specimen they were to be dissecting to each group. “Are you twins?”

“No,” she laughed, “I’m a year older, but Arthur’s a year ahead, so he’s in our grade. What are you studying?”

“Graphic design,” Merlin answers. “With a minor in philosophy. My concentration is environmental studies, that’s why I chose this class for my science credit.”

“Same!” she beams. “For my concentration, at least. I’m majoring in political science like Arthur, and minoring in criminology.”

Merlin’s dark brows reach for his hairline, although his mop of equally dark hair mostly concealed this. “Wow, that’s, uh…intense.”

Her laugh is throaty and lovely as she pulls on her lab coat, tossing her hair out of the collar. “Blame our father. We were raised with dinner table debates and he’s running for office in the coming election.”

Merlin knew very little about politics unless it affected him directly. Since there was very little legislation—or at least _good_ legislation—regarding the LGBT community or the arts, he was not interested in politics. “Oh well, good luck to him,” he responded ambiguously.

Morgana proved to be a capable lab partner who wasn’t too chatty but still kept Merlin engaged. Arthur was silent most of the time, only speaking up to discuss the actual specimen they were dissecting or the chemical homework they were assigned. That changed when class dismissed, and he looked directly at Merlin.

“Get a haircut. We’re using Bunsen burners next time and I don’t want to have to clean up a charred lab partner.”

Merlin stared at him and his stupidly perfect hair as he left the laboratory. It was long enough so that it reached his brows if he let it, but he typically ran his hands through it so often that it stood up at just the right angles, perfectly disorderly. Merlin self-consciously fingered his own tresses and the mess of cowlicks that it was. He cleaned, conditioned, and brushed it every day, but the soft mass refused to be controlled.

He startled at the touch on his nape, and found Morgana’s hand exploring his scalp. “I like it,” she declared. “It’s like you have permanent after-sex hair.”

She guffawed when Merlin’s cheeks visibly burned a hundred degrees. He knew she felt it in his neck because she laid the back of her cool hand against his throat. “Aw, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” he assured, swallowing his embarrassment. “I’ve just…never been insulted and then complimented quite like that before.”

One of her sleek brows lifted and she looked where Arthur had disappeared out the lab door. “I often think his name was mean to be Asshole, but the nurse somehow heard Arthur and put that on his certificate instead. He’s not all bad, though, so don’t let him get to you. Despite what he says, he really would clean you up and take you to the hospital if your hair caught on fire.”

Merlin wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not, and muttered dubiously, “Great.”

Morgana walked with him across campus, claiming that she had a break before her next class and she was meeting someone along Merlin’s route anyways. Outside of the art building, Merlin recognized Gwen, Arthur’s girlfriend. He did a quick scan of the area to make sure her boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

Gwen looked up from her textbook just in time to see them approaching, and jumped up from the concrete barrier encompassing the massive garden in front of the glass and metal structure. No expense had been spared when this school was constructed.

“Guinevere!” Morgana chimed, skipping forward and hugging her friend before pecking a kiss on her cheek. “This is Merlin, I just met him in chemistry.”

“Hello, Guinevere,” he greeted, holding out his hand.

She accepted it eagerly but laughed, “Oh please, just call me Gwen.”

“I like your full name,” Morgana complained.

Gwen rolled her eyes at Merlin, making him laugh. “Yes, but it’s bad enough that my name is medieval _and_ I’m getting a degree for medieval studies.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have to get to class. It was nice meeting you.” He waved and took a step away, but Gwen called him back.

“Wait! When do you get out of class?”

“I’m not finished until three-twenty, and then I’m meeting my advisor,” he apologized.

To his surprise, Gwen smiled. “Okay! Do you want to get some coffee or something later? Morgana and I know a great little place—we can meet you here and walk there?”

Merlin thought about it and couldn’t think of any reason not to. “That sounds nice,” he said, and Gwen held out her phone to him. The three of them exchanged numbers and despite knowing him for less than a minute, Gwen hugged him and wished him a good day.

Merlin was baffled as to how Arthur could have achieved such a kind person for his girlfriend.

The day passed easily enough, and he met Professor Gaius to relay the events of the day. It was less formal than most advisor meetings went, but then again, Gaius was not like most professors. He laughed and chatted with Merlin until he leaked his confrontation with Arthur, after which he fell silent.

Merlin realized he’d just outright placed the dean’s son in an unfavorable light in front of a faculty member, and his heart began to sink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh no, no,” Gaius interrupted. “I have no doubt in what you say happened. I’ve just known Arthur for quite a long time. He’s an incredibly hard worker; he’s double majoring in two of the hardest subjects and has managed to get ahead of his age group. It is only natural that he is feeling stressed for the new academic year. I am sorry you were the person on whom he vented his frustrations.”

Merlin asked tentatively. “Double majoring in what?”

Gaius pondered that and recalled, “Political science and international relations, I believe…ah, and a minor in business administration. With the station his father is in, he has high expectations to live up to.”

Merlin felt guilty all of a sudden. He defended mildly, “That doesn’t give him the right to be an ass.”

Gaius chuckled heartily. “No, I suppose you’re right about that, but it doesn’t help to goad him on.” He gave Merlin a pointed stare, under which Merlin swallowed guiltily. “The boy I knew grew into a fine young man, though. Just be patient with him. University is hard on all of us, but even more so for him.”

Merlin could tell their meeting was drawing to a close, but something Lancel said arose in his mind and he had to ask, “The dean…Arthur’s father…I heard that he has some sort of reputation?”

Gaius looked at him expectantly. “Like what?”

Merlin swallowed, contemplating how to go about this so he could ask what was really on his mind. “I don’t know. I was just wondering if…I heard he was running for a political office, plus being one of the deans...Arthur's sister mentioned that one of the professors was their uncle. The dean must have a lot of sway in the school’s goings on…”

A shadow passed over Gaius’s eyes, and Merlin knew he saw right through his guarded speech. “I know what happened at your last institution, Merlin, but I assure you, Uther Pendragon is not the sole individual managing this school. I will be honest with you and say, yes, he does not often bother to understand things outside of his way of thinking, but you hardly have any need to feel concern.”

The dark grey-blue eyes behind the glasses narrowed as he inspected Merlin. “I want you to go out of your way to enjoy your time here. A student should not be afraid to get an education, and I’ve seen your work. You’re incredibly talented. We are lucky to have you.”

He glanced at the clock on his desk and finished, “You said you were meeting friends later? You best not keep them waiting.”

Merlin nodded and silently left the office as he texted Gwen and Morgana to let them know he was free. Gwen replied to him almost immediately:

_Great! We’re already by the garden :)_

Merlin found them exactly where he’d left them earlier that day, and Gwen gave him a one-armed hug before they set off for the coffee shop. Merlin was glad to read their menu and see that they also had a wide selection of teas and smoothies alongside wraps and salads. His knees bounced with anticipation while his stomach roiled painfully from not finishing his breakfast and losing his lunch to Arthur’s shirt. When his turkey wrap finally arrived with his tea, he had ceased conversing with Morgana and Gwen for fear of saying something untoward in his famished haze.

He filled his cheeks with two bites and chewed around the blueberry sauce, turkey, crunchy vegetables, and toasted pita wrap blissfully. When Morgana said his name, his gaze perked up under hooded lids with his cheeks still full. The ladies giggled at the sight and Merlin realized Morgana had asked him a question.

“I was asking if you wanted to come with us and some friends to a club tonight? The dancing’s great and the drinks are cheap.”

He shook his head and swallowed. “I can’t, I’ve got rehearsals.”

Gwen’s attention piqued. “Theatre?”

“A cappella and choir,” he corrected.

She and Morgana grinned at each other while the latter commented, “You’ll meet Leon and Percy, then! They’re coming with us tonight.”

Gwen pulled out her mobile. “I’ll text them and let them know to meet you. They’re great guys, and hopefully they’ll convince you to come along. We need to have fun before the semester really kicks off.”

She pivoted her phone so he could see a picture of them, although the view was obstructed by a massive amount of cream and pie filling all over their faces. “I admit, it’s not the best picture,” she apologized, “This was at the pie throwing fest, a charity for their fraternity last spring.”

The young men looked nice enough, if their pie-covered smiles were any indication, but Merlin replied warily, “Rehearsals won’t be finished until nine o’clock, and I’ve already got homework.”

Morgana assured, “We won’t be out past midnight. Arthur’s a lightweight anyway—oh, right…Arthur’s going by the way.”

Something must have changed on Merlin’s face for her to say that, and Gwen glanced between them before asking, “What’s up with Arthur?”

Morgana smiled guiltily and explained, “Arthur left his charm at home this morning and got off on the wrong foot with Merlin. He’s cooperating since the three of us are lab partners, but—”

“Oh,” Gwen curtailed, “you’re the one who got cream cheese on his shirt.” She giggled. “He’s not a morning person, but he’s gotten over that by now. You can bring some of your friends if you’ll be more comfortable.”

Merlin thought about that and agreed, “My roommates might like to go. Gwaine will be out the door the moment I mention it.”

Gwen’s eyes brightened. "Gwaine and Lancel are your roommates? Yes! Bring them! They’re in the same frat with Percy, Leon, and Arthur. Just tell Gwaine to leave that cough syrup he calls whiskey under his bed.”

Merlin laughed, having already seen the mason jar of homemade whiskey Gwaine kept a supply of. He passed along the invitation to his roommates via text before departing to go get some homework done before rehearsals and the inevitable evening of dancing. When he walked into the rehearsal auditorium, he found the a capella leaders he had auditioned for earlier in the summer, and signed in on their clipboard.

“Hi, are you Merlin?”

He turned…and his head craned upward. They might have been clean of pie, but Leon and Percy were much taller than he anticipated. Leon was a tall figure of strong, albeit willowy limbs, with a hooked nose, cupid bow lips, and curly, curly auburn hair. Percy was obviously an athlete of some kind, with shoulders as wide as Arthur’s, but his stance was loose and casual. The light bounced off his buzzed, brunette hair, shining almost blond where the light hit.

“Yes,” Merlin said tentatively, straightening his glasses.

“I’m Leon,” he smiled, extending a hand, which Merlin shook.

“And I’m Percy,” the other reciprocated the gesture, shaking Merlin’s hand congenially. “Gwen mentioned she’d met someone who was in both choirs. It’s cool to meet you. There aren’t many people who go for both choir and a cappella.”

“You’re a transfer, right?” Leon picked up. “How are you liking everything?”

Merlin grinned. “So far, leagues ahead of my other school.”

Leon smiled while Percy’s attention was drawn to someone else entering the rehearsal room. “Elyan’s here. Hey, Eli! Come meet the new guy!”

Merlin’s eyes averted and he was taken aback by a young man with rich, dark skin approaching. Percy noticed his reaction and laughed, “They look like twins, don’t they? This is Gwen’s younger brother, Eli. He’s a freshman, and we tease him about it as much as possible.”

“He’s not lying,” Elyan gave him a look before smiling kindly at Merlin.

“Merlin’s a transfer,” Leon informed, “so both of you should shout out to us if you need help with anything.”

“Woah, nice scarf,” Elyan interrupted, reaching out to feel the red scarf around Merlin’s neck. It was his most expensive garment, the scarlet material covered in a darker crimson, arabesque pattern.

“Thank you, it was a gift,” Merlin replied.

Elyan’s brows lifted, aware of how much it likely cost. “Take care of that. Anything could happen.”

Leon agreed, “Best leave that in the dorm when we go out later.”

Their practice leaders called for everyone’s attention, then, and they gathering in a circle to warm up and pass out the songs they were going to work on for the art building’s open house in a few weeks. Afterwards, Leon, Percy, and Elyan rushed away to grab dinner, but since Merlin’s lunch was so late his stomach was still full. He pulled out his laptop to work on his graphic homework in the fifteen minutes he had before the school’s choir mistress entered and had the men and women line up based on the pitch in which they sang best.

Once rehearsals ended, Leon, Percy, and Elyan found Merlin in the crowd of students departing and walked with him to his dorm so he could drop off his things, as well as pick up Lancel and Gwaine.

“Gwaine, what the hell are you wearing?” Leon interrogated upon entering the room.

“What?” the man in question replied innocently. He adjusted his neon pink headband and dusted off the equally neon blue shirt and highlighter yellow trousers. He practically glowed, and that was exactly what he was aiming for.

Percy failed to keep a straight face as he said, “You look like one of those bug lamps, except repellent.”

Merlin laughed with the rest of them as he crammed his phone, wallet, and keys into his pockets, exchanged his scarf for a quilted, black leather jacket with flannel lining. Gwaine bantered with Leon and Percy until he noticed Merlin’s apparel and whooped, “Uh oh, Merlin’s breaking out the leather. Hide your husbands! Hide your wives!”

At the amused, albeit puzzled look everyone gave him, he shrugged, “I don’t discriminate.”

Merlin asked Lancel curiously, “Does he know?”

His roommate shook his head. “No, it's not my place to tell him, and like he said, he doesn’t discriminate.”

Merlin laughed as he locked the door behind them. The six of them piled into Gwaine’s retro VW bus and cruised along the highway to the club where Morgana, Gwen, and Arthur were meeting them. Merlin sat in the front seat beside Gwaine and snuck a picture on his phone while Gwaine was singing along to the radio, and then twisted the phone while they were at a red light to take a selfie with everyone.

Gwaine tossed his keys to the valet of the restaurant across the street from the club. He claimed it was easier to have someone else park in this neighborhood, even if they weren’t eating at the restaurant. Merlin rotated to see the brightly lit sign that read, _Good Company._ They paid the entrance fee and were already on their second drinks by the time Morgana, Gwen, and Arthur arrived.

“Wow, took you long enough,” Gwaine chided as he gave Arthur a one-armed hug and kissed both of the ladies’ cheeks.

“Arthur refused to park within four blocks of here,” Morgana turned a critical eye on her brother.

“Why didn’t you use the valet across the street?” Gwaine questioned.

Arthur stared at him dubiously. “You know they can fine you if they know you haven’t eaten at that restaurant?”

Gwaine waved the matter away and sipped his mojito. “I’ll have an appetizer as a midnight snack.”

“Is that good?” Morgana asked Gwaine of his beverage. He let her sip it while Gwen came in to hug Merlin. In his peripheral, he saw Arthur turn to see whom Gwen was hugging, and his eyes locked with Merlin’s.

“Oh…you.”

Merlin’s lips pressed together but he swallowed his sass and extended a hand. “Let’s try this again, I’m Merlin.”

Arthur scrutinized his hand but ultimately accepted it. “Arthur.” He turned away and announced to no one in particular, “I need a drink. What’s the most alcoholic thing here?”

Someone at the bar overheard and laughed, holding out the list of cocktails the bartenders specialized. “The Sorceress is a real doozy.”

“I’ll take it,” he nodded at the bartender, who promptly began pouring bottles into a shaker.

Merlin was discussing the art of eastern European armor in the medieval ages with Gwen when he felt an arm snake through his and found Morgana grinning wickedly. “Dance with me!”

He felt himself tugged into a cloud of heat and perfume, but he let his shoulders and hips move with the beat and melody of the blasting music. At one point Morgana took his hands, but he turned the tables and twirled her, leading her through a swing dance.

“When did you learn this?” she exclaimed gleefully over the music.

“My mother!” he shouted back with a similarly wide grin on his face.

Out of nowhere, Leon, Percy, and Lancel filtered through the crowd to join them. The five of them formed a wonky circle until Gwaine burst right through it, holding his drink high. His heavy arm landed around Merlin’s shoulders and they danced together until Gwaine determined that he was not drinking enough and Merlin accompanied him to the bar.

Gwen and Arthur were still there, and Gwaine arrived just in time for the bartender’s attention. He was setting down a multitude of beverages and Arthur pointed to one, asking, “Is this mine?”

The bartender glanced, nodded, and took Gwaine’s order. With drink in hand, Arthur let Gwen take his hand and lead him onto the dance floor. A moment later, Gwaine did the same thing with Merlin, yanking him through the crowd until he found their group once again. Gwen appeared and asked him for a dance, so he swung her into a twirl like he had with Morgana.

“MERLIN WITH THE MOVES!” Gwaine proclaimed, waving his arms in a robotic style. Merlin and Gwen guffawed, pausing to catch their breath when Arthur suddenly stumbled right into Merlin. The impact caused them to collide with three other people. Merlin apologized profusely, or as much as he could over the blaring speakers, but Arthur seemed oblivious as he partially hung off of Merlin for support.

“You dance like a fairy,” he mumbled into Merlin’s shoulder.

“Arthur, stand up, I can’t hold your weight! How much have you…?” he returned, but then he noticed the shape of his glass. “Is that still your first drink?”

Gwaine’s attention perked up and dumped Arthur’s glass right onto the floor. He lifted the reflective aviator glasses he was wearing and squinted at the runoff liquid. “I can’t tell if these are really small bubbles or drug particles…”

Merlin swiped a finger along the glass while crumpling under Arthur’s weight. He rubbed his fingers together and felt the granules disintegrate against his fingertips, “Someone tipped his drink.”

“Well that’s hardly _good company,”_ Gwaine uttered, peering into his own glass. “Well I’m in no state to drive him home.”

Lancel chimed in, “Shit, none of us are except Merlin, but we need the cars. Can I split a cab with you, Merlin? I’ll help you take him home.”

Merlin took one glance at everyone else and placed a hand on Lancel’s shoulder. “No, stay here. Make sure everyone else gets home safe.”

Lancel nodded his understanding and gestured to Arthur. “He’s fading fast. You better get him someplace where he can vomit.”

With that, Merlin hoisted Arthur’s arm around his slender shoulders and half-dragged him out of the establishment. He had to haul Arthur around the block to the main street in order to hail a cab, and Arthur was not helping.

“Wha…what is this, really?” he scoffed, flicking his fingers in Merlin’s hair. “How do you even see? Your hair nearly touches your glasses…”

Merlin repeatedly pulled Arthur's hand out of his hair and all but shoved him inside the purring taxi. He gave the driver the name of their university and managed to buckle Arthur under a seatbelt before the muscle mass of his body slumped against Merlin, pinning him against the door.

“Arthur…I can’t help you if you squish my lungs,” Merlin huffed for breath.

Arthur blew something akin to a raspberry in the air. “Skeleton like you doesn’t have lungs. Carrion…carrion things wouldn’t even pick you for bits.”

“I don’t see why they would bother with you lying on top of me,” he growled, shoving and successfully placing Arthur on the other side of the car.

 _“Excuse_ you!” the blonde declared with a hiccup. “I am a varsity athlete and that demands more than you’re packing.”

Merlin would not have pegged Arthur as the self-conscious type, but he let the man prattle on about why his weight was justified as they arrived on their campus. He was rather stunned how Arthur was still conscious and verbal, but attributed it to his size since he was reminded of how much larger Arthur was as he yanked him out of the car.

“Keep the change!” Merlin called to the driver because he simply could not count money while holding Arthur at the same time. “In which dorm do you live?”

Arthur grimaced as if the sidewalk lamp was too bright. “Dorm? I live in the dean’s suite…my father’s house.”

Merlin sighed haughtily. He neither knew where that was, nor suspected that it would be a clever idea to knock on a dean’s door to deliver his roofied son. He might have texted Gwen to see where she lived, but she and her dorm keys were still at the club.

“Come on, you heavy clot,” he announced, “you’ll have to stay with me tonight.”

“Call me that…again, and I…I will…”

“Shut up, Arthur.”

“The Benson!...Ben..Boo…Bun—Bunson burner! Call me that and I’ll Bunson your hair to a proper length…”

Merlin rolled his eyes and continued ushering him across the campus. He meant to cut across the massive front lawn, but Arthur’s feet kept tripping over the grass or getting caught in nonexistent holes, and he was convinced that the hill they were on was a mountain; despite the muscle relaxant’s strong effects, he held onto Merlin tightly.

“Drop me and I swear…” he wasn’t able to find a conclusive end to that sentence.

Merlin provided, “If I drop you anywhere, it will not be on the soft front lawn.”

“You’re quite rude. Do you know that?”

Merlin opened his mouth but Arthur’s never closed. “I mean, _really_ rude. You trip like a clumsy idiot into class…throw your despicable food at me…”

“I did not throw anything at you,” Merlin defended, but Arthur was on a roll.

“Then you make Morgana think you’re cute or something—Guinevere, too, I can tell—you danced with my girlfriend!”

He abruptly stood on his two feet, staring Merlin in the eye. “You never asked me if you could do that.”

“She asked me,” Merlin scoffed. “Obviously fairies dance better than pretty boys. Up the stairs, now…”

The goal was less to get Arthur up the stairs than it was to make sure he didn’t face plant on the concrete treads. They managed it, though, and Merlin scanned his university ID card to get into his building.

“Is this where you live?” Arthur wondered with an equal mix of incredulity and disgust.

“No, it’s where we prepare the bodies,” Merlin sassed, guiding Arthur to the next set of stairs.

“My body is not ready…” Arthur grumbled, and they came to a standstill as his shoulders heaved. Merlin waited…and waited for something to come spewing out of Arthur’s mouth, but after a long minute, Arthur removed the hand over his mouth to give a shaky thumbs up. “I have an image to uphold…and that does not include vomiting in a stairwell.”

“How thoughtful. Don’t worry, your reputation is already shot by me,” Merlin growled as they climbed another three stairs.

Arthur rounded on him with enough clumsy force to press Merlin into the banister rail. “Take that back, hipster four-eyes. I’m delightful.”

Merlin would have guffawed if he weren’t struggling for air. “Your breath smells like cheap rum and vomit, you weigh half a ton, you’re the worst morning person alive if today was any indication, and I’m not sure why I volunteered to have you breathing down my neck in a cramped stairwell.”

“Most people enjoy it,” he grumbled, slowly sinking back into his slouch against Merlin, albeit still pinning him against the railing.

“By ‘most people,’ I hope you mean _Gwen,”_ Merlin declared pointedly. He spun Arthur around so the man swayed a little, but that arm returned to Merlin’s shoulders, just as heavy and tight as before.

“Of course I mean Guinevere!” he harrumphed. “Fuck, I’m not my father.”

Merlin slowed their ascent, taken aback by Arthur’s simultaneously defiant and dejected tone. “Um…what do you mean?” he dared to ask.

Arthur’s head lolled until it fell on Merlin’s shoulder. They’d finally made it to the landing of Merlin’s floor, and he was turning the knob when Arthur revealed, “Morgana’s my half sister.”

Merlin blinked through the strain of carrying Arthur and let the stairwell door swing shut behind them. “She’s a year older, though. That doesn’t mean—”

 _“Merlin,”_ Arthur huffed like he was missing the obvious. “My father was married for five years before I was born.”

“Oh.” He really had nothing to say to that.

By some miracle, Arthur managed to stay on his feet, only sliding partially down the wall as he waited for Merlin to unlock his dorm room. Then he rolled along the doorframe and stumbled onto Gwaine’s bed. He grimaced at the room. “What is that smell?”

“Gwaine’s whiskey,” Merlin informed tersely, grabbing Arthur’s muscly shoulders and steering him toward the bathroom. “You need to hurl in the toilet.”

“I can barely see the…” Arthur tried, but his knees buckled beneath him. His eyes were barely open. Merlin helped him to the toilet bowl and reached for Lancel’s cologne before promptly spraying it in Arthur’s face. The man winced, grimaced, and then his features went slack and tinged green as he lunged face first into the bowl. Merlin rubbed his back as he emptied his stomach, meanwhile spritzing some of the cologne in the air. It smelled quite nice and covered the stench of sickness, although a spray in the face was potent enough to keel Arthur’s stomach over.

When he finished with a dry heave, Merlin cleaned his face with a damp towel before helping him out of his shoes and light, linen blazer. He draped the cool towel on Arthur’s neck as he dropped him on his own bed. Arthur was semi-conscious and becoming delirious as Merlin yanked his pillows from beneath him, leaving Arthur with one cushion as Merlin commenced to build a makeshift bed on the floor.

“Mmwhosebed izzthis?” Arthur asked sleepily.

Merlin recovered a spare blanket and placed the rubbish bin beside Arthur’s head along with a bottle of water. “Mine.”

Arthur seemed to be contemplating theoretical physics as he stared between Merlin kneeling on the floor and the two empty beds in the room. “Why…the floor?”

“Because Gwaine and Lancel will be back soon and need their beds to sleep in.”

“You don’t?”

“Go to sleep, Arthur.”

Merlin waited until Arthur’s eyes finally closed and his chest rose and fell evenly before returning to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face, and clean his glasses for the morning. Arranging his multitude of pillows around himself, he snuggled in his blanket and fell asleep, only briefly considering what he was going to do when Arthur awoke the following morning.


	2. Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the semester gets going, Arthur starts it off with a rough hang over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm giving you all long boring chapters, but hey, exposition. I'm just as eager to get to the good stuff as you, I promise ;)

Arthur awoke with a start, his mind only processing how desperately thirsty he was. His eyes alighted on the bottle on the windowsill, and he lunged for it. He twisted the cap off and drained it before it occurred to him how much his head was swimming, and he plopped back onto the pillow. When the room ceased spinning, he observed how the ceiling was unfamiliar, as was the window beside him…and the bed was far too small.

His head turned and he recognized the same dynamic most dorm rooms had, only this one was for three people, one of whom was snoring softly on the floor.

Arthur gripped his pillow and swung it over Merlin’s chest. “Merlin!”

The cushion smacked the side of his head, causing Merlin to awake with an exclamation. He peered at Arthur with squinted, disoriented eyes. “Huh?”

Arthur glared through his thundering headache and found Merlin’s glasses. He placed them beside Merlin’s hand and growled, _“Why_ am I in your room?”

“How much do you remember?” Merlin yawned, placing the spectacles crookedly on his face.

“I was dancing with Gwen, and then it’s a blackout. What happened?” He peered at Gwaine mumbling something in his sleep across the room; Lancel was currently buried beneath his plush duvet.

“Someone contaminated your drink,” Merlin said groggily. He’d rolled onto his back, eyes closed.

Arthur felt his headache lessen somewhat as the blood rushed out of his face. “Someone drugged my drink?”

“No worries,” Merlin yawned again. “You were with us the whole time.”

“God, what time is it?” Arthur breathed, unwilling to contemplate this any further.

“Sevenish,” Merlin guessed, his eyes still closed. Arthur searched his pockets and found his phone; Merlin’s guess was accurate, and Arthur had two hours before his first class.

His gaze diverted to the plethora of cushions tucked along Merlin’s body. He leaned down despite the protesting thud in his skull to yank the pillow out from beneath Merlin’s head. “Do you have enough _pillows?”_

“Hmrmh…” Merlin complained before replacing it with one of the others. He took his glasses off and rolled over, flopping a leg over the cushions. “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t go back to sleep! I have a raging headache because some fuck head ruined my drink.”

“It happens,” Merlin sighed. He reached a wobbly arm over his head to point at the small dresser beside the bed. “Aspirin’s in there.”

“I drank all the water.”

“Filtered water’s in the fridge,” the arm flopped in the other direction.

The empty bottle bounced off his shoulder. “Get me some.”

“It’s your headache, you get it,” Merlin tossed the bottle back.

“I can barely sit upright, let alone stand,” Arthur refuted. “Come on, you’re two meters away from it.”

Merlin sighed loudly and placed his glasses back on his face. He snatched the bottle from Arthur’s hand and took the filtered pitcher to the bathroom so the excess fell into the sink. Replacing the pitcher in the mini fridge, Merlin handed the bottle to Arthur and collapsed on his pillows in one fluid motion.

“Which drawer?”

“The second.”

“Get it for me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Merlin.”

“Arthur.”

He heard Arthur sigh haughtily. “Why can’t you get the damn aspirin for me?”

“Because I’m not your servant.”

Arthur laughed darkly. “As if I’d pay for this service.”

Merlin had a second’s warning as he heard the lid of the bottle screw off, and then cold water poured over his head. He shot up, gasping and pushing his hair back so the water didn’t spread to the rest of his body. “You! Y-You…” he struggled for an insult.

“Yes?” Arthur gazed at him expectantly.

Merlin glared at him. “You’re such a needy, self-absorbed, pompous, p-pr…prat! That’s the word. You’re also an ass!”

“For some reason your insult is lackluster,” Arthur stated sarcastically. “Be a gem and get the aspirin.”

The bottle rattled harshly as Merlin threw it at him. Arthur caught it easily and shook out two pills. “What do you lot do for breakfast?”

“We go to the dining hall,” Merlin growled. If he was about to suggest he bring back food for him…

“Is it any good?”

That gave Merlin pause. “You’ve never eaten in the dining hall?”

Arthur replied, “I eat breakfast at home, and I don’t have time during the day to eat lunch before I return home for dinner.”

The mound of bedding that was Lancel spontaneously moved and a ruffled head poked out of it. “Isn’t it early for a druggy to be awake?”

Arthur appeared puzzled, shocked, and then murderous in the span of two seconds. “I was _drugged,_ you indecent cad!”

Lancel propped his chin on his hand, gazing at them on his stomach almost nostalgically. “Must not have been a very committed villain if you’re back to being yourself so easily.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur demanded loud enough to make Gwaine rouse like his bed had just tipped over.

Lancel laughed when Gwaine really did tumble off the bed before responding, “Nothing, sweet heart. Your personality sparkles. It’s your temper we can’t stand.”

“It’s only because I have to deal with idiots all day—MERLIN!”

Merlin had passed out and was giggling in his sleep as if he'd heard, causing Arthur to swing his pillow over his head for the second time. Merlin awoke rather like Gwaine this time, while Lancel gazed on. “No wonder Gwen doesn’t sleep over.”

Arthur sat up proudly, only swaying lightly with his pounding head. “I am perfectly charming in bed as well as to people I _like,”_ he growled, nudging Merlin with his foot to return the pillow. Merlin had grabbed it and rolled over so his back was to Arthur. He theatrically inhaled a snore and exhaled a whistle.

“Hey lads…” Gwaine mumbled from his place on the floor. He was hidden by a bag of laundry he’d somehow managed to accumulate already and other bags he had not yet unpacked, so they only saw a petite flag emerge above the mess. It waved lethargically with a camel on the fabric as he chimed, “Happy Hump Day.”

The flag fluttered to the top of the heap and they heard him resume his snores. Lancel hummed contemplatively. “There may be something seriously wrong with him.”

“No wonder the roommate compatibility was so high,” Arthur muttered pointedly at Merlin before he too toppled off the bed.

“GAAUUF!” Merlin cried when Arthur’s elbow crashed right into his abdomen. He weakly but emphatically crawled out from under him, creating a knot of flailing limbs.

“S-Stop! What are you…?” Arthur tried to bellow but he was just as pale as Merlin.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Merlin exclaimed tersely, jumping to his feet and stumbling to the bathroom.

Arthur rolled limply onto his back, a cold sweat dewing his forehead. “That might be two of us.”

Lancel turned his miniature fan on and placed it on the floor beside Arthur’s head while Merlin retched the remnants of his stomach into the toilet. “At least it can only be downhill from here.”

Merlin all but dragged himself from the bathroom. He paused on his skinny, wavering legs to retrieve the pitcher from the refrigerator, and then collapsed beside Arthur with the cold vessel clutched against his bruised torso. His spectacles slid off and water splashed out of the small spout, but he did not mind.

Arthur frowned at the lack of breeze because Merlin’s fluttering hair was blocking it, but when he reached over to adjust the fan, his body pressed alongside Merlin’s and he could feel Merlin's vertebrae gently poking against his chest. “Christ, Merlin, you couldn’t have thrown up anything because I doubt you eat.”

He pinched Merlin’s V-neck shirt and tugged the loose material away from his body. “Why are your clothes twice your size?”

Next he grasped Merlin’s elbow and lifted it for inspection; the forearm hung like a Halloween skeleton until Merlin pivoted it to press a fingertip against Arthur’s forehead. “Hands off the goods.”

Arthur scoffed but said nothing…until he wrenched whatever was pressing into his ribs out from under him and stared into the crystalline blue eyes of a stuffed dragon the size of a pillow. It was the fluffiest, whitest thing Arthur had ever seen and he set its head on Merlin’s shoulder so those eyes peered over him. “Tell me your secrets, Merlin,” he cooed. “Share your feelings.”

Merlin squinted for a solid minute before he realized what Arthur had found. He promptly poured water over the golden head. Arthur gasped and exclaimed, “MERLIN! Are you trying to get me ill before I’ve even recovered? Do you know what would happen if I were to get pneumonia the first week of classes?”

“Tragedy,” Merlin sassed, already curled around the floppy white dragon, his face buried in its cotton and polyester fur. Arthur stopped sputtering when his eyes locked on how the dark tresses mixed with the white tuffs. His eyes drifted over Merlin’s lashes, and down to the corner of his mouth, the full lips slightly parted with the wanting of more sleep. He seemed genuinely intent on abandoning consciousness, causing Arthur to wonder how someone could trust a stranger so quickly.

His cheeks blushed hotly as he realized that he must have done something utterly embarrassing last night for Merlin to not think twice about his stuffed animal or sleeping beside someone he’d only known a day.

Pulling his thoughts away, Arthur declared, “At least it’s a comfort knowing something of yours will fit.”

Merlin’s eyes opened as if he’d never closed them. “Fit? Why do you need my clothes?”

“Because mine smell sour and I can’t wear them around campus,” Arthur explained. “I’ll also need to borrow a notebook for my classes.”

Merlin sighed, knowing full well that he couldn’t turn Arthur out in his condition. It was a wonder he was insisting on attending classes at all. “Only my shirts will fit you. Lancel is more your size in the hips.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw something flash in Arthur’s eyes, something he’d seen plenty of last night: damaged pride. _He really is self-conscious about his weight,_ he pondered, utterly baffled. Arthur obviously put up prickly defenses like sarcasm and arrogance to protect a sensitive ego, but despite his outward demeanor, Merlin thought Arthur was incredibly attractive. He did not quite understand how the blonde had developed such a fragile self-esteem.

He was only confirmed of his suspicions when Lancel procured a spare toothbrush for Arthur while he rummaged in his drawers for a suitable pair of jeans. After finding a faded, crimson shirt for Arthur, Merlin went ahead and brushed his teeth alongside him, using the toilet to spit since Arthur was claiming the sink. Merlin caught him brushing, flossing, and scrutinizing his teeth in the mirror. Sure, his teeth were on the large side, but Merlin thought they made his smile all the brighter when he’d seen Arthur smile at Gwen, or laugh with his sister.

Around eight o’clock, Arthur and Merlin were dressed and entering the dining hall. Arthur was still dreadfully pale but his color slowly returned once they sat down and slurped a spoonful of soup.

It was impossible for Merlin not to notice how the faculty eyed Arthur and either waved or peered at him from the corners of their eyes. Merlin reckoned that several of them would have approached if Arthur had not looked dead on his feet, but he noticed how one of the women took one look at him before scurrying to the kitchen and returning moments later with a pot of soup. Usually soup was not served until lunchtime, but for Arthur, they made an exception.

“When is your first class?” Merlin asked conversationally to break the silence.

“Nine,” he responded tersely, slowly sipping his broth and letting it dissolve the battle in his stomach. After a moment he returned, “Yours?”

“Eight-thirty,” Merlin perked up, forking some eggs into his mouth.

Arthur watched him pop a strawberry into his mouth before resigning himself to their small talk. “What class?”

“Graphic Illusion: Two and Three-Dimensional Construction,” Merlin reiterated from memory. Arthur stared at him, causing Merlin to smile goofily. “It’s just drawing on a computer. Graphic design is almost as pretentious as you.”

Arthur blinked heavily and shook his head. “You know nothing of poli-science, then.”

“I know enough to avoid it like the plague,” Merlin chimed, and popped a blackberry in his mouth triumphantly when the corner of Arthur’s lips perked up. It quickly evaporated, though, and Merlin sensed tension in Arthur that had nothing to do with his head or stomach. Before Merlin could change the subject, it was changed for him by the arrival of Morgana and Gwen.

The latter sat next to Arthur and stroked his hair, asking how he was feeling. Morgana smiled at Merlin and whispered, “I stayed at Gwen’s last night, the better to avoid explaining to our father why only one of his offspring came home last night.”

Merlin frowned. “He’ll want to know what happened, won’t he?”

“Sure,” she nodded, “but I’ll have Arthur in tow and looking healthy again to mollify him.”

Merlin pushed his berries and scrambled eggs around on his tray. “Over protective, is he?”

Morgana’s mouth opened and the doubtful look in her eyes told Merlin what she meant to say before she altered, “Yes, that’s a way of putting it.”

Merlin’s eyes drifted back to Arthur, who was pulling Gwen close by the crook of his elbow to kiss her temple. “I best be off.”

Three pairs of eyes rounded on him. “What do you mean? We just arrived,” Gwen complained with a pleading smile.

“If you have an eight-thirty, you still have fifteen minutes,” Morgana seconded.

“You’ve got…illusions to create, I suspect?” Arthur guessed, not quite meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, some touchups on the homework,” Merlin confirmed. “I don’t want to get behind before I’ve even begun. See you.”

“Wait!” Morgana hopped up to catch his arm. “Text us when you’ve finished, and we’ll meet at the café.”

Merlin smiled, “Sure.”

He was two steps away when Arthur halted, “Merlin, is that really all you’re going to eat?”

He glanced at his left over eggs and berries and replied. “I don’t eat much in my old age.” Arthur could only glare and return Merlin’s shrug with a shake of his head.

Merlin dropped his rucksack beside his worktable, which was a transparent, blue glass surface that could tilt to whatever angle he liked for hand drawing before looking up at the computer screen mounted on the wall. Merlin turned the computer on before taking his notepad over to the scanner. After duplicating his rough sketches into the database, he saved them to his hard drive as well as his USB drive.

He worked on his pieces leisurely while the professor handed out fliers for certain events happening on campus where their art could be showcased if they wanted. The biggest event was specifically for art students but it was not until the spring, so Merlin set the reminder in his calendar for later. The nearest event was actually in three and a half weeks.

Merlin frowned and returned to his calendar app to review when his a cappella and choir concerts were: the entire art building was hosting an open house as a prelude to the grand showcase in the spring. He sighed, planting his chin on his palm as he thought over how best to arrange his schedule so he could create something for the show, but also not go insane from music practice.

“My, you’re thinking awfully hard on something.”

“Hm,” Merlin acknowledged, and then did a double take at Gwaine arriving late and taking the seat next to him. “Gwaine! I didn’t know you were in here—why weren’t you here on Monday?”

“I’m in the advanced film and photography class,” he explained with a cheeky smile, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “But my advisor duly informed me that I have to have this prerequisite. She’s letting me take them at the same time.”

He winked and Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. Gwaine had a unique talent for getting his way, especially with the female faculty members.

As soon as his lashes lifted from his wink, his eyes locked on the drawing Merlin was almost finished lining on the computer. “Holy shit, you’re already that far along with that? I saw you sketching it the day we moved in.”

Merlin didn’t know Gwaine was so observant, and the man seemed to read this on Merlin’s face. He smiled again and rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “I like to barge into people’s business. Are you putting this in the…the…” he rummaged through the papers the teacher had given him, “this thing?”

He pointed at the event dated for the following month and Merlin shook his head. “No, it won’t be done by then. I want to add some sort of animation to it, but I don’t have the animation class until the spring. Hopefully I’ll get it in the showcase, by then.”

Gwaine’s crooked smile beamed. “I look forward to seeing it… Um, what are we supposed to be doing?”

Merlin guffawed and filled him in on their assignment as well as the homework that was due by the end of class. Gwaine stunned him by whipping up a series of wolves in the hour and twenty minutes they had, taking Merlin’s advice on light and shadow to heart. Merlin asked how he’d done it so quickly and Gwaine gladly told him the process as they made their way out of the building. Somehow, in Gwaine’s special way, he'd learned that Merlin was meeting Morgana and Gwen at the café and invited himself along.

Merlin was adjusting the red, arabesque scarf over his deep blue sweater as he waited for the cashier when he froze at the sound of a familiar baritone. “Merlin, would you mind telling me why you’re wearing a jumper before autumn has even started?”

The garment was loose enough so it was comfortably rolled to Merlin’s elbows, but Arthur’s blue eyes still roamed over him with an exhausted skepticism. “The art building feels like a blizzard,” he defended, “and I have a weak metabolism. I’m always cold.”

Arthur turned to face him fully and Merlin felt like he was either being undressed or x-rayed by those eyes. “A weak metabolism?” Arthur repeated. “Is that why you eat so little or why your body processes nothing at all?”

Merlin rolled his eyes and stepped forward in line to give his order to the barista. He noted Arthur’s order of a caramel cappuccino before they stood together at the end of the bar, waiting. Merlin lowered his voice to respond privately, “Just because you’re as wide as a doorframe, doesn’t mean you’re overweight.”

Arthur slowly turned to peer at him. “How could you possibly know the measure of my body?”

“Because I carried it across campus,” he returned, deadpan. “You’re welcome.”

A laugh burst from Arthur so quickly that Merlin saw other customers glance over curiously. Merlin expected Arthur to be pissed at him for not only bringing up his weight, but also reminding him of the previous evening. Arthur crossed his muscled arms over his wide chest and replied, “If you think for a moment that I believe you alone dragged me across campus and up three flights of stairs, then I’m sorry I gave you such a bad impression of my intelligence.”

Merlin laughed warily, waiting for the stone to drop. “My point is, stop comparing my body to yours. Nothing’s wrong with you.”

He could feel Arthur’s eyes on him as he reached for his tea latte. Instead of waiting for a retort, he located Gwaine and Morgana sitting with Gwen in the back of the shop. Gwaine was arranging the lilac blossoms from the table arrangement in Gwen’s hair while Morgana gave Merlin a one-armed hug in greeting. Arthur quickly followed with his cappuccino and joined Gwen on the bench mounted to the wall.

“We should make plans this weekend,” Morgana announced.

“Boring plans, I hope,” Arthur quipped dryly. His eyes unintentionally flicked to Merlin, whose smile was quaint and unassuming.

“You guys can help me plan the Halloween ball the history department’s hosting,” Gwen offered, sipping her blackberry tea.

“History department?” Gwaine repeated, and then reached behind Morgana to nudge Merlin. “That mean’s there’s a theme, right?”

“Duh, it’s Halloween,” Gwen confirmed. “Since I’m in charge, naturally it will be a medieval jubilee.”

“Mmph,” Gwaine acknowledged more solemnly. “I have to go shopping for leggings.”

A steel glare entered Gwen’s gaze that Merlin had not witnessed before. She jabbed a finger at Gwaine’s chest and warned, “So help me, if you show up wearing a codpiece of _any_ sort, Gwaine—”

“All right! All right,” he held his hands up in defeat. “But you should know that if I don’t do it, someone else will.”

“I’ll send them to the stocks, then,” Gwen declared, earning laughter from Arthur.

“Are you to be the queen, Guinevere?” Morgana taunted.

Gwen appeared dubious. “Most of the women there will try to look the part of queen. I was thinking of a lovely, common girl ensemble.”

“You’ll match Merlin perfectly,” Arthur stole. “He’s common enough.”

Merlin grinned sweetly. “You’ll fill a knight’s armor wonderfully.”

Arthur’s smirk faltered somewhat but Merlin was the only one who noticed. Gwen was beside herself. “Oh, that’d be brilliant! If I got a suit of armor, would you wear it? Mind, the helm alone can weigh forty pounds…”

“Then I won’t wear the helm,” Arthur reasoned. “The padding, chainmail, and body I can do. I better have a sword with it.”

Gwen nudged his ribs playfully. “A knight has no reason for a sword at a ball.”

“Technically they didn’t wear armor, either,” Gwaine supplied. “They wore their posh tunics with lutes at their hips instead of swords…” He realized everyone at the table was staring at him. “What? I’ve done my history credit.”

Gwen giggled, “It may be better to just have a suit of armor there for anyone to try on. We will need to go shopping for attire or materials to make costumes ourselves.”

“I don’t sew,” Arthur countered honestly.

“I do,” Gwaine chimed, garnering more curious looks. “My mother taught me. Consider me the Gwaine of all trades.”

Morgana laughed and turned to Merlin. “What about you? Have you made clothing before?”

Merlin happened to be sipping his latte at that moment, so he nodded around the mouthful. Gwen’s attention perked up. “What have you made?”

Merlin felt their eyes on him and said bashfully, “Uh, well, you remember the jacket I had on last night?”

Gwen nodded, smiling until her jaw dropped. Gwaine cut in, “Wait, that leather number you were rocking?”

Merlin nodded, not entirely wanting this newfound attention but also slightly enjoying it. Gwen’s smile returned tenfold. “That looked like a professional design! Where did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged. “I transferred from an arts academy, so those sort of skills were available to be learned.”

“Oh, why would you ever leave?” Gwen shared a pleased expression with Morgana, who agreed, “Learning anything and everything to do with art sounds magnificent.”

The light thrill Merlin previously experienced from the praise immediately plummeted to his belly. Thankfully Arthur looked even more out of his element than Merlin did when it came to discussing art; for some reason, the blonde’s scowl grounded him. “It just…didn’t work out. Great school, but I didn’t fit.”

Gwen’s smile fell. “Oh…I’m sorry. That’s really a shame.”

He easily replaced his smile with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll help in any way I can, but I’ll warn you now, my schedule is filling up.”

Gwen sipped her tea happily now that the tension had broken. Arthur seemed more at ease with the subject change as well. “Filling up with what?”

“There are several showcases throughout the year,” Merlin explained, “that I’d like to be able to submit work to. But with music rehearsals, performances, and homework, I haven’t much spare time.”

“And you should fill _every one_ ,” Gwaine cut in. “You should see what he was working on this morning! Ah, it’s the most amazin—”

Morgana’s eyes widened as Merlin reached across her to clamp Gwaine’s mouth shut. “Let it be a surprise,” he warned congenially, releasing Gwaine’s mouth.

“Fair enough,” Gwaine acquiesced. “Speaking of concerts, though, Percy was talking to me about the first one you guys are doing at the open house. Expect to see me there.”

“Eli told me you sound really good,” Gwen praised. “Arthur and I will be there.”

The man himself perked up from his cappuccino. “We will?”

“Why not?” Morgana challenged. “All of our friends are going, and your frat brothers are _in_ the choirs. Aren’t you ushering the concert?”

Arthur shook his head. “The music fraternity is in charge of ushering concert events.”

Morgana tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder and said, “Well, we’ll be there, and it would be nice to go out for dessert and coffee afterwards or something. I'm desperate to enjoy the weather before it turns.”

“It’s still a few weeks away,” Merlin reminded, as he read his calendar app, “but it’s on a Friday, so that would be nice. You should pick the place.”

“Nothing too expensive for us plebeians,” Gwen teased.

At that moment, the barista came over with a to-go wrap for Merlin. He thanked her and stood, shouldering his pack. “I’ve got to go. I’m working tonight, but I have early classes everyday if anyone wanders into the dining hall by accident.”

He waved goodbye and made it to the backdoor when Gwaine appeared beside him. “Where do you work?”

“Technically anywhere,” Merlin revealed, “since it’s on my laptop. I’ve been commissioned to create some posters, fliers, and things for the environmental company I’m interning with this winter.”

Gwaine clapped a hand on his back, causing Merlin to lurch forward a step. “Congratulations! What’s the company?”

“The parent company is _Avalon Shores,_ but I’ll be interning for the branch that works toward reestablishing wildlife reserves, parks, and sanctuaries where animals from zoos, discarded exotic pets of millionaires, etc. can live safely. They can’t survive in the wild, but they're not domestic animals either, so the company devotes acres and acres of real-estate in their natural habitat for them that's also out of the way of poachers and other animals. The company’s hosting a massive fundraiser this winter and is letting some enrolled interns take part in the advertising of it.”

“Wow…” Gwaine mused. “Saving the planet and its four legged citizens in one go. And here I am trying to perfect a fermentation recipe.”

Merlin laughed. “When you think you’ve made the perfect whiskey, let me know.”

“Will do,” he agreed. “Are you going to the graphic lab, then?”

“Yeah. Are you thinking about homework?”

He shrugged. “Now that I know my roommate’s an established artist, I’d be foolish not to feed off of your magic.”

“Gwaine! Merlin!”

They stopped on the sidewalk and turned to see Arthur jogging to catch up with them. “Do you guys have a minute?”

“Sure,” Gwaine confirmed as Merlin nodded.

“You’re both in the illusions class, right? It would take loads of stress off Gwen if she didn’t have to think about promoting the ball around campus. Could you design some posters for it?”

Gwaine looked at Merlin cheerfully, since he was in the business of poster making. Merlin replied, “Sure. Can you have her send me drawings of the costumes she plans to make or what the ballroom will look like? I can use those as templates.”

“I don’t want to ask her,” Arthur declined. “I want this to be a surprise.”

Merlin’s eyelids dropped in annoyance. “You want to get the credit.”

“Absolutely,” Arthur nodded unabashedly.

“Do you know how to draw _anything_ on a computer?”

“No, but I’m wicked at solitaire. Look, they’re just posters. I can have them printed and posted over campus. Just throw something together and email it to me."

Merlin’s eyes followed Arthur’s hand as he plucked Merlin’s phone right out of his front jeans pocket. He quickly typed his contact information and slid it right back into Merlin’s jeans. “Excellent. Now make it look good. It’ll be coming from me, after all.”

Gwaine chuckled as Arthur meandered back to the coffee shop and Merlin withdrew his phone to see exactly what Arthur had typed in his phone. He expected to see _Dean Supreme_ or _Prince Pendragon_ as the name, but Arthur hadn’t typed a ludicrous pseudonym. He had given his cell phone number, though.


	3. Keep Pushing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur skips class to finish recovering, so naturally the others crash his house for dinner.

Merlin arrived at the chemistry lab the following morning with every intention of showing Arthur the first draft of his poster design for Gwen. 

That is, if Arthur was there.

Morgana greeted him and explained that he was taking a day to properly recover as they passed in their homework. Microscopes were assigned to every pair of students and the assignment was to sketch the assortment of different flora and fauna cells before labeling them. Merlin peeked at the cell and began flipping through his textbook to discover what organism it came from, but when he glanced back, he found Morgana with her eyes hovering over the lenses, blindly sketching on a piece of paper. Merlin watched her work, how her hand followed her eyes’ bidding despite her never looking at the page.

“Mr. Emrys,” Dr. Agravaine called, jerking Merlin out of his ogling state. “This is a _partnered_ assignment.”

“Yes, sir,” he responded apologetically. Morgana looked at him curiously and he gestured at the picture she was nearly finished drawing. “That is extraordinary. You didn’t look at it once.”

“Oh, thanks,” she said bashfully. “It’s a learned skill.”

Merlin took the image so he could label the appropriate organs. “What inspired to you to learn to draw like that?”

“I think the next specimen is epidermis,” she replied, her eyes focused through the microscope.

“Right,” Merlin cleared his throat, returning his mind to the assignment. She pushed the scope to him so he could verify and draw the second diagram.

After class, Merlin continued the rest of his day without much interaction with any of his friends except Percy and Leon in rehearsals. When he returned to his room after choir practice, Lancel was reading a textbook on his bed and Gwaine had fallen asleep while cleaning the lenses of his cameras. Camera equipment was strewn across his desk and his hand still held the fluid bottle as he drooled over his open house flier.

The following morning, Gwaine and Lancel joined him in the dining hall for a celebratory breakfast of the first Friday of the semester. Lancel kept his meal small since he had a workout with the other athletic training majors, but Gwaine stole a second plate of pancakes and managed to devour them before he and Merlin arrived at the graphic lab for class.

The tutorial they were to work on during class was experimenting with the difference between colored and monochromatic shading. Gwaine had Merlin snorting into his hand, trying to hold back his laughter at how his drawing appeared like either a woman’s breast, a face with a wart, or a fish smiling with a dimple depending on how Gwaine shaded it. Merlin’s chest felt bruised from laughing as they exited the art building and made their customary stop at the café.

Gwen was there, perusing through a renaissance festival magazine when she startled at the touch of Gwaine playfully tugging a curl of her hair. “Where’s your other half?” he greeted, taking the magazine from her to look through it himself.

“Oh, his father wanted him to review the speech he’s giving tomorrow at a campaign gala.”

Merlin sat a little straighter, tipping his chin to the side. “He’s skipping again? Yesterday, Morgana said he was skipping to finish recovering from the club.”

Gwen’s smile faltered and Merlin caught the eye contact between her and Gwaine. Merlin’s stomach wiggled unpleasantly. “What is it?”

Gwaine took a deep breath and sighed carelessly, “Arthur twists the truth on occasion. He likely _is_ taking a sick leave, but to keep his father’s suspicions at bay, he’s doing him that favor. You had something to show him, didn’t you?”

Merlin locked eyes with Gwaine, silently reminding him that the poster he wanted to show Arthur was a surprise for Gwen. The young woman said, “We can go over there after classes and you can show it to him, Merlin. His father is gone during the day. A home meal with his friends might do him well.”

Gwaine nodded. “I’ll bring Merlin over around five?”

She nodded and stood. “Morgana and I will already be there. Will you tell Lancel to come? I have to get to my seminar, but do you guys have any dinner requests?”

“Meat,” Gwaine answered ambiguously.

Merlin shrugged pleasantly. “Anything with a side of salad.”

He and Gwaine soon followed her out of the café to attend their own courses, but when Merlin dropped his bag on his bed, Gwaine was ready with his dorm keys in hand. “Are we not taking the car?” Merlin wondered.

“We can walk. It’s just to the top of the hill and a block away.”

Merlin recalled the massive slope on the other side of campus and decided to leave his scarf on the bed as well. The walk across campus was leisurely enough but by the time they reached the crest of the hill, even Gwaine was breathing heavily. He glanced at Merlin and thumped his palm against Merlin’s chest. “Blood’s pumping, eh? Your skin is rosy.”

Merlin peered at the flushed skin under his long sleeve, baseball tee before he realized, “I forgot to text Lancel!”

“Don’t worry, I did,” Gwaine assured. “He’s busy overseeing the ladies' double rugby matches this evening…lucky bastard.”

Merlin laughed and turned abruptly when Gwaine strolled up a wide brick path curving toward an even wider front door. It looked like medieval mahogany, inlaid with a large, oval window. Even the doorbell was actually a manila tassel. The dean’s suite was certainly meant to impress.

Merlin fidgeted with the hems of his sleeves, feeling more intimidated than anything.

They heard the patter of feet, and then the door whooshed open to reveal a windblown Morgana. “Hello! Sorry, were you waiting long? I was upstairs.”

She hugged them both in turn and let them pass into the foyer that stretched into a living room on the right while a staircase reached directly up and curved toward the upper floor. The dark wooded banister and floors swallowed the light in the foyer, but the lighter colors of the living room and the kitchen beyond illuminated the place into a spacious, charming environment. Merlin followed Gwaine’s lead and discarded his shoes by the door.

“Arthur’s been asleep all day,” she revealed as she led them up the stairs, “being completely useless. I woke him up twice to help me clean and to help make his own dinner, but to no avail.”

“Well we’ll just have to drag the prince downstairs, won’t we?” Gwaine announced with so much gusto that Morgana and Merlin exchanged a laugh. Merlin continued to gaze around the house, marveling at how the place did not seem to have many rooms, but the square footage of the place was so large that the rooms were incredibly spacious and ceilings were ten feet high, creating a cavernous environment.

Merlin admired the thick, ornate carpet sprawled down the length of the corridor. His focus caused him to fall to the end of their group, and he only stopped when he heard a door open and Gwen announcing in a whisper that Arthur was asleep but they could enter the room. Merlin doubled back since he’d breezed right passed the room, and examined the equally ancient looking wood of the bedroom door, letting his eyes wander until they landed heavily on the king sized bed and the rumpled, navy sheets.

Arthur was lying on his stomach, his strong legs stretched out, dusted with golden fuzz, with only a pair of dark grey boxer briefs on his hips. Merlin’s gaze dragged almost painfully up that long body, and he felt like his eyes were falling out of his skull when they locked on the broad expanse of his lean, muscular backside. He had a second to register the ripples of soft, yet tight, muscle and his elegant shoulder blades before his attention was torn amongst those wide shoulders, the sloping spine, that pert, rounded ass, the wheat blond hair shining like gold where light touched it…

“I…I…’ll go…um, dinner…” he stammered, rapidly turning on the spot and nearly smashing his shoulder on the doorframe on his way out of the room.

Gwaine had glanced over his shoulder when Merlin started speaking, but at the sight of his roommate utterly dumbstruck, fumbling over his words, and the way he left the room as if his prescription had suddenly gone bad, he peered at Morgana and Gwen to see their reactions: Gwen was buttoning a shirt over her camisole, but Morgana’s eyes shined with wondrous understanding. Gwaine sidled up to her and whispered, “Did my eyes deceive me…or was Merlin totally ogling Arthur?”

Morgana tried to hold back her giggles as she replied, “I knew Merlin was shy, but I think he just surprised himself. Did you not know?”

Gwaine shrugged dramatically. “I don’t gauge my friends based on orientation. Although I’m a little affronted that he didn’t run into walls for _me.”_

Morgana barked a giggle, causing Gwen to peek at them curiously and Arthur shifted on the bed, putting his back more fully to them. “Don’t tease him!” she warned. “Something about Merlin…he really goes out of his way not to draw attention to himself. We should leave him be…at least for now.”

She and Gwaine exchanged a wink, and raucously jumped on Arthur’s bed.

Merlin initially clamped a hand over his mouth but quickly realized that his nose was not supplying enough air. He raced down the staircase, no longer admiring the colors, carpets, or artwork on the walls. He was trying to slow the beating of his racing heart that had stopped at the sight of Arthur and then picked up again ten fold. He was flat out running to the kitchen by the time the backs of his eyes ached like they were bruised. Merlin took one look around the cozy, ornate kitchen before slumping against the central island, the pads of his fingers pressed to his eyes so his tears would not escape.

“No, no…stop,” he warned himself, gasping a sob. He set his glasses on the island’s counter, steadying himself on the quartz countertop. “Fuck, Emrys, you’ve barely known him a week, and you know better. Stop this.”

But the back of his mind rebelled, imagining what those strong, wide shoulders felt like, what his chest would feel like against Merlin, holding him up, supporting him…

Merlin pressed his fingers on his eyelids to the point of pain, dragging himself out of his own vicious mind as if he was swimming from the depths to an unreachable surface. Without his glasses, he felt his way to the fridge and found two ice cubes, which he delicately rubbed over his eyes to banish the ruddy swelling. After a long moment, he felt his way through the mess of smeared color until he had his glasses in hand, and the mess righted itself into a navigable environment.

He continued stroking the melting ice under his eyes as he found certain ingredients in the fridge: kale, lemons, and mango. Rifling through the cabinets, he found a bowl suitable for his purposes and proceeded to rinse the bluish-green kale leaves in the island’s sink. He picked off the frilly bits, leaving the tough core and veins of the plant in the sink as he squeezed a lemon and olive oil in the bowl before his washed hands began squeezing the leaves roughly.

“God damn it, I thought I threw that…what are you doing with it?”

Somehow, Merlin managed not to startle at the sound of Arthur’s voice, made husky from sleep. “I’m kneading it,” he informed, relieved to see the white V-neck and pajama pants Arthur wore.

Arthur stared at him and the bowl quizzically, like his face had malfunctioned. “Why?”

“You don’t have to cook kale to make it soft,” Merlin explained. “You can…massage it, knead it until it’s edible.”

Arthur’s brows lifted in complete astonishment as he shook his head and sauntered to the refrigerator for cold water. Removing a bottle, he rounded the counter and sat on a barstool, observing Merlin’s salad making. He noticed that the leaves as well as Merlin’s hands were shiny, and the air smelled of lemon. “What else is in it?”

“Lemon juice and olive oil. I’ll add honey and mango when I’m done.”

Arthur’s lips twisted and he phrased, “Why are you making enough for all five of us?”

Merlin’s head perked up. “Because we’re all eating…aren’t we?”

On of those sandy brows arched up. “I’m not eating that.”

Merlin glanced between him and the unfinished salad in his hands. “I haven’t even finished— _you_ haven’t even tried it yet.”

“I don’t need to try it,” Arthur declared stubbornly, scrubbing a hand over his hair and forehead. “There are steaks in the fridge; bottom shelf. Slather those with oil and lemon juice.”

Merlin felt the fibrous leaves relaxing in his tense grip. “If anyone’s in charge of the meat, it’s Gwaine. I don’t eat steak.”

Arthur frowned as if Merlin had just done him a personal offense by growing a third arm and leg. “Why ever not?”

“It’s too heavy in my stomach,” Merlin answered cryptically.

Arthur grimaced with confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It means, if you want it so badly you can cook it yourself,” he snapped calmly.

“You don’t want that,” Morgana warned with a smile, entering the kitchen with her hair freshly brushed and the others in tow. “Last time Arthur tried to cook, the fire department came. Lovely gentlemen. They were nice enough to take our left over chicken off our hands, charred though it was.”

“That looks good,” Gwen mused, rubbing Merlin’s back as she inspected the mango he was chopping. He handed her a sliver of orangey flesh and she hummed her thanks as she went to sit between Arthur and Morgana.

Gwaine gave him a fond pat on his shoulder as he passed by to reach the refrigerator, intent on those steaks Arthur had mentioned.

“Does Lancel have a match tonight?” Gwen wondered, noting his absence.

“Double,” Gwaine confirmed, rifling through the selection of spices and salad dressings. He made quite a bit of noise until he selected a marinade and placed the grill pan on the stove.

“Arthur, can you get the plates and things?” Merlin asked.

“They’re in the cabinet above the toaster,” Arthur countered, pointing in the direction indicated.

Merlin gave him a deadpan expression and reiterated. “Can you _get them?”_

Arthur sighed, raking a hand across his scalp as he slid off the barstool. Merlin glared at those mussed wisps of blond hair before making sure Gwen was looking the other way. He quickly washed oil and juice off his hands and went to the drawer beside Arthur to gather silverware.

“Look _down,”_ he growled.

Arthur glared at him, stunned by his tone until he noticed the folded paper Merlin was trying to give him. Arthur took it and the pile of plates before leading Merlin to the glass sunroom facing the backyard garden. Setting the plates down, he unfolded the paper and commented, “You couldn’t just email this to me?”

“I want to make sure it’s right before you print five hundred of them,” Merlin sassed.

Arthur returned his pointed look and slid the paper into his pocket. “This will do well enough…” he noticed Merlin’s eyes wandering between the knives and the forks. He sighed, “Hopeless. Give me those. I’ll set the table, you set the plates.”

Merlin relinquished the silverware as Arthur’s large hands closed around his paler ones. Arthur’s movements paused, and for a long second they were connected by the silverware between them. Merlin’s features fell into a puzzled frown when Arthur’s finger experimentally stroked over the back of his skin.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, puzzling Merlin further. “Your hands feel like a woman’s…actually even Gwen’s are not this soft…”

He pushed the silverware into one hand and let his other close around one of Merlin’s, flipping it over to feel if the palm was the same.

Merlin retracted his hand. “It’s from the oil and lemon juice, that’s all.” Without glancing back, he maneuvered around the table, setting plates before five of the chairs. “How are you feeling?”

“All right,” Arthur replied, following him with the forks and knives.

“How’s your father’s speech?”

He could feel Arthur’s eyes but he did not look to meet them. “Excellent, considering I wrote it.”

“Your father doesn’t write his own speeches?” Merlin wondered.

“Politicians rarely do,” Arthur replied. “They’re orators, not poets.”

“But you are?” Merlin countered, finally out of plates and a reason to avoid his gaze.

“I know my father’s platform better than anyone. I know how to get his points across without entirely offending his audience.”

Merlin frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a confident platform…or a good one.”

Finished with the silverware, Arthur stood tall, making Merlin imminently aware of their difference in size. Right then, standing tall and proud…rigid…Arthur was a head taller than him and nearly twice as wide. Merlin felt inclined to take a step back, but he reminded himself that he was a guest here; he had the right to be here and say his honest opinion, even if that made Arthur rise to defend his father.

“My father is a veteran. He’s used to getting a job done without diplomatic nonsense. Luckily he has me to sort that out for him.”

That only made Merlin’s frown deepen. “But you’re not the one running for office. He should be able to handle that himself. You’ve got your own responsibilities to worry about.”

“Merlin,” Arthur announced darkly, with finality, “it’s none of your business. My father and I have a system that works. I don’t care whether you understand it or not.”

He and his powerful frame strode to the kitchen, disappearing behind the corner where laughter and sizzling meat could be heard. Merlin was left in the sunroom, where golden orange rays of afternoon sunlight filtered through the glass, casting deep shadows around the impressive garden. Merlin unlocked the double paned door and felt soft grass under his toes. A wall of honeysuckle growing along the house greeted his senses, the white blossoms bobbing with the light breeze.

At first glance, the garden appeared to be an intimate, tranquil place lined with iris stalks out of bloom and daylilies, rubber plants, and other richly green and colorful foliage. But the deeper Merlin ventured, he found a thin trail of flagstones lined with calla lilies that curved around a corner. Merlin followed it and breathed deeply the scents of earth, bark, flowers in bloom, dormant greenery, and then the crisp freshness of water.

 _Shit, how big is their yard?_ he wondered. He soon found the end, in the form of a stone wall indented with a Turkish fountain dripping with water. It was so out of place but utterly beautiful that Merlin paused before he approached it. An ovular crescent indented the wall, tiled with white, blue, and green; at its base was a ruffled bowl like a shell or a lotus blossom. Water poured from the wall and into the bowl until it overflowed, dripping water between its ceramic petals to the hexagonal pool beneath.

There were algae in the crevasses, and a smear of green below the spout of pouring water. The fountain had not been tended to in a long time, but Merlin could not understand why they would keep the water pumping if—

“This was our mother’s sanctuary,” Morgana surprised him. Her silk kimono cardigan rippled with the dark purple similar to black tulips. The color made her aquamarine eyes pop as she smiled, approaching the fountain beside him. “She had a passion for travel, especially southern and eastern Europe. She may be why Arthur’s gotten it into his head to double major in international relations…but this was her garden, and she adored this fountain.”

“There aren’t pictures of her in the house,” Merlin recalled. Actually, there weren’t pictures of _anyone;_ only paintings and small tapestries adorning the walls, but he already felt that he’d overstepped a boundary with Arthur. He did not want to do the same with Morgana.

“No, all the photos were removed from the wall along the staircase…the ‘wall of pride’ is what our father called it when we were children. After our mother passed it was more like his wall of shame, so the photos came down.”

“Can I ask…how did she pass?” Merlin dared.

“It’s not a secret,” Morgan revealed kindly. “She was travelling, of course, but she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was one of the collateral deaths of a terrorist attack; some ridiculous hate crime against foreign ambassadors and charity workers simply on a camping trip with oppressed children, women, non-heterosexuals, and religious refugees. Some psychopaths saw a melting pot they couldn’t stand the taste of, and…here we are.”

Merlin stared at her and sighed a breath of air as if he was forcibly blown away. “Fuck.”

Morgana surprised him by giggling an exclamation. “Merlin! I didn’t know you had such a tart tongue!”

He smiled bashfully. “Sorry, that was disrespectful.”

“No, no, no such thing. She would have agreed with you,” she smiled warmly. Merlin remembered Arthur’s drugged confession and wondered if Morgana knew Arthur’s mother was not technically her own, or if blood was not a factor in who she considered family. Either way, he was not bringing it up, and as far as Arthur knew, he’d never revealed that broken part of himself to Merlin.

Morgana emphasized, “She was the only woman who managed to knock our father down a few pegs. But when she died, he went on a rampage.”

“What do you mean?”

Morgana shrugged as if these details were just facts of life that she had accepted. “The photographs came down, the artwork…Arthur and I had to gradually put the carpets and paintings back up over time as Uther’s schedule kept him more and more from the house. Most of everything you see on our walls was brought back on her travels. Uther also wanted to demolish this garden, but Arthur and I were ready to stand in front of the bulldozer if it came to it, so he let us have it only as long as we maintained it. Arthur’s too busy, so I manage to the flowers but I’m always exhausted by the time I reach this back corner…Merlin.”

His eyes slid over to her, sensing a request coming.

“Seeing as you're in the environmental studies curriculum, how much do you know about flowers?”

His basest instinct was to tell her the truth, how his mother was a professional gardener and had taught him everything from making proper compost to the pH of the water and soil. However, he did not want to disappoint her with unavailable expectations, which prompted him to shield most of his gardening experience without lying. “I’ve dabbled but I haven’t the time to become your personal gardener.”

“I wouldn’t force you into that,” she laughed, “unless I paid you, but no. How about coming over early tomorrow morning and fixing this corner with me? The fountain obviously needs help, and if we don’t trim these plants, they won’t bloom next spring as fully as they did this year. The soil could use some toil and replacing as well. I won’t keep you longer than you want; I know you’ve got a full schedule. I’ll have breakfast, lunch, and lemonade for you,” she bribed.

“Oh, well, if there’s lemonade involved,” Merlin scoffed before sharing a laugh with her.

“GUYS! DINNER!” Gwaine hollered from the house.

Morgana curled her elbow with Merlin’s as they meandered back to the sunroom. Merlin nibbled the inside of his lip until Morgana noticed and ushered, “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t want to intrude. I think I already pushed a boundary with Arthur earlier.”

“Good. He’s so used to pulling, it’s about time someone pushed him for a change. But how specifically?”

Something about Morgana, the way she used her father’s name in a detached way made him come right out with it: “About your father and his campaign…how has the death of his wife affected his platform?”

He met her eyes, which were poring into his, causing him to wonder if he was legible like a book. Mirroring his thoughts, she said aloud, “You read a situation incredibly well. Uther’s ideals were once extraordinarily liberal, in tune with his wife’s adventurous, welcoming standards…but when she passed, he blamed those who also died with her for her death. Anyone who lives outside of his box makes him prickly and unable to trust, especially those of a different religion, sexual orientation, and culture as him. His platform reflects this.”

“Arthur’s practically his campaign manager and script writer,” Merlin rebuked. “How is he able to support this, let alone sell it to an audience?”

Morgana smiled sadly but her eyes were sharp. “Arthur is the top of his class, and always has been. He may be an ass, but that’s only because he has to expend his charm for our father’s cause.”

“But he’s a grown man,” Merlin insisted. “If Arthur doesn’t believe in it, he shouldn’t fight for it.”

Then, Morgana’s grin beamed at him. She reached up to brush his hair to the side, the better to eliminate the shadow from his Mediterranean blue eyes. “I'm very glad you ran into my brother. You should stick around, Merlin, and keep pushing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been absolutely BINGE reading this fic: [Imprinting](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3368024/chapters/7365857) and simply had to share it with you. It's Merlin and Arthur in modern times with A/B/O dynamics and it is absolutely breath taking, but not for the feint of heart. It's also a translation, which is a bit iffy at times, but it's still legible and totally worth your time.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! :) You are much loved.


	4. Boring Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin meets Uther Pendragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update in less than 24 hours, WHAT WHAT.

Merlin called Morgana the following Saturday morning to let her know he was on his way. She told him the gate would be unlocked so he could directly enter the garden, where breakfast was already waiting for him.

The sight of the garden was even better this early in the morning, before the sun had crested the treetops, creating a hazy, dreamlike quality as the dew sparkled on the grass and the morning’s fog had not yet faded.

“The weather’s already changing,” Morgana complained, setting a platter on the small, iron wrought table surrounded by plump cushions. Merlin returned her one armed hug as he examined the platters of bacon, fried eggs, croissants, prosciutto, and a frilly salad much like the one he’d made last night.

“I stole your recipe,” she admitted, “but my dingus brother ate the rest of it at midnight and we were out of mangos, so I improvised."

Merlin guffawed, recalling their dinner the previous evening: Morgana and Merlin had returned from their stroll to find everyone waiting patiently around the table. The salad as well as the steak were great hits, but Merlin had made note of how Arthur’s portion of greenery was miniscule on his plate.

Until he tasted it.

He devoured the kale and mango in three bites before he reached for the salad spoon. Merlin had instantly lowered his gaze before Arthur peered up to make sure no one was paying attention.

“It’s turkey bacon,” Morgana clarified, shifting her long braid over her shoulder as she settled on one of the cushions. “Arthur mentioned that you didn’t eat beef, so I didn’t want to risk it with pork, or are you a vegetarian?”

“Just beef,” he assured, sitting cross-legged next to her and pulling several strips of turkey bacon on his plate. “I’d be a horrible vegetarian with my leather jacket. I don’t eat a lot of pork, either, but this is perfect, thank you.”

She smiled warmly before biting into a croissant slathered with clotted cream and blueberry preserves. He glanced at the house as if to see through the brick for who else was home. “When is the gala?”

“This evening,” she informed. “Uther’s already left to finalize preparations. Arthur’s dead to the world.”

Merlin chuckled around his prosciutto-wrapped egg, casually looking around the garden. A couple of bees hovered near the honey suckle, but his eyes locked onto the leaves of the flowerbed next to him. Reaching over, he stroked one of the leaves between his fingers and thrust his hand in the soil to gather a handful before letting it sift through his fingers. “All the beds could use fresh compost. This close to winter, though, it might be better to leave it until you replant the bulbs.”

Morgana peered at him. “Replant the bulbs?”

Merlin fixed her with a wide-eyed, guilty stare. “Do you not do that?”

“I’ve never needed to,” she admitted.

“Then don’t,” he hastily waved the matter aside. “If the garden grows, don’t kill it.”

A shrewd smile bloomed on Morgana’s face. “I think you know more about gardening than you let me believe, Merlin.”

He shook his head. “I read the magazines at the dentist’s office.”

Morgana laughed serenely but she left him to his secrets as they finished breakfast. She supplied him with gardening gloves and they went to it: starting with the fountain. Morgana had turned the water off the night before so it was drained and ready for cleaning. They scrubbed it down, making sure to scrape away all the green and black filth from the mortar between the tiles.

When the water was turned on and the fountain had resumed its exotic elegance, they started yanking out weeds, dead leaves, and pruning the odds and ends. At some point, Morgana found a worm in the ground and meant to move it aside, but when it wouldn’t emerge from the soil, she called to Merlin, “Look at how long this worm is! It's other end is still in the ground.”

“Uh,” Merlin commented, noticing the subtle markings on his body, “that’s a baby albino garden snake.”

She squealed, dropping the tail and leaping back as it disappeared entirely in the soil and plants. “So my side’s done! How’s it going over here?”

Merlin knelt on his hand and knees, laughing while he wiped sweat from his brow. “Garden snakes are harmless,” he reminded, but added, “Let’s take a break. It’s time for that lemonade.”

They came around the bend to find someone exiting the sunroom, and Merlin fell a step behind Morgana. The man was unmistakably hers and Arthur’s father. He had the same powerful build as his son, exuded confidence like his daughter, but his eyes were cool grey and his dark hair nearly matched.

“I arrived home just in time to hear a scream,” he greeted with a smile.

“It was me,” Morgana admitted, entering the fold of her father’s hug. “I mistook a garden snake for a worm.”

Uther Pendragon squinted his eyes toward the sky, processing that. “They look quite different, don’t they?” he teased before his eyes fell on Merlin. He reached out a hand while Merlin removed his gloves. “And you are…?”

“Merlin, sir,” he shook the man’s hand firmly. “Morgana, Arthur, and I are in the same chemistry class.”

“Really?” Uther said rhetorically. “What is your major?”

“Graphic design, but with a concentration in environmental studies.”

Uther frowned slightly. “I would think it should be the other way around. To my knowledge, graphic design is a competitive field. You might get quite far with environmental work.”

Merlin straightened his glasses and shook dirt from his gloves, giving his hands something to do. The man certainly thought his way of thinking was the right way.

Fortunately, Morgana spoke so Merlin did not have to respond. “Why are you home? I thought you had left for the day.”

“I’m avoiding wearing my tuxedo as long as I can,” he admitted. Sure enough, he was dressed in a button up, dark grey shirt and ironed jeans. “It is very kind of you to take time out of your weekend to help with the garden,” he returned his gaze to Merlin.

He shrugged innocently. “I enjoy being outside, and your yard is lovely. I couldn’t pass up the chance to spend more time in it.”

“More time?” he looked to Morgana now.

“Merlin, Gwaine, and Gwen were over for dinner last night,” she explained.

“Father.”

Uther turned to reveal Arthur standing in the doorframe of the sunroom. Beholding all three Pendragons in the bright morning light made Merlin felt incredibly out of place. Arthur was a golden visage, even disheveled by sleep, and Morgana was a lithe, dark beauty. Uther was aged but stout, not an uncomely man but he had certainly captured the attentions of beautiful women to create such beautiful children.

There was also a strange dynamic between them which only Merlin seemed to notice. Arthur stood in the doorway with a stern expression above his crossed arms that had nothing to do with the blaring sunlight; Morgana wore a mask of serene indifference, but her eyes absorbed every movement, every word. Uther was something in between, his mask naturally made of stone, which only cracked to give smiles to his children.

“Ah, you’re finally vertical and ready to face the world?” he said by way of greeting Arthur. Then, Merlin watched him approach his son, and shake his hand good morning. Merlin felt his jaw drop before he snapped it shut again. The handshake was so far from his concept of familial interaction that if Merlin did not know these two men were related, he would have thought they were business partners.

“Father, you have a meeting in forty minutes,” Arthur reminded, but to Merlin is was plainly, _Get out._

“Yes, I came to get my attire for this evening and to see if you were fit to attend the meeting with me. Are you?”

“I will be in ten minutes,” Arthur assured. “I’ll meet you in the car. Merlin.”

His brows perked up at the sound of his name. Arthur strode passed his father and handed him his mobile phone. “Put your number in this. I’ll need it in regards to Gwen’s jubilee and when we meet for chemistry sessions. Speaking of, I need you to look over my work.”

Merlin frowned up at him while he typed his number into Arthur’s phone. “That sounds like you want me to do your homework.”

“It’s already done,” he returned haughtily. "Morgana’s already looked over it, but since we’re all lab partners, we might as well sink or swim together. Uncle doesn’t care if we work together on homework, and it’s an enlightening preview of his hellish exams. You’ve got time on a Saturday, don’t you?”

“No, actually,” Merlin returned, “and I told you earlier this week that my schedule is full. That includes weekends.”

Arthur accepted his phone back and waved it smugly in the air. “I’ll be able to steal your spare minutes, then.”

Uther called their attention, having been listening to their volley of dialogue. “Lab partners, you say? If you have the evening off, Merlin, you should come to the gala we’re hosting.”

Arthur whirled around as inconspicuously as he could manage. “Father, you heard him. He’s busy—”

“Not the first Saturday of the semester,” Uther refuted. “The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Bring more of your friends, if you wish. It will be a milestone of my success as well as yours.”

“Thank you, sir,” Merlin declined, “but I haven’t anything remotely close to a tuxedo to wear.”

Uther appeared to hardly be listening as he ascended into the sunroom. “Arthur, bring him to the after party, then. Casual wear will go unnoticed there. Until tonight, good day, Merlin.”

He disappeared into the house, and the siblings exchanged silent words with one another before their eyes fell on Merlin.

“I’m sorry,” Morgana apologized, “I never thought he’d make a pit stop at home.”

“Why are you even here?” Arthur asked, deadpan.

“ARTHUR.” Morgana exclaimed darkly, affronted on Merlin’s behalf.

He and Merlin stared evenly at each other, the latter responding coolly, “Because unlike you, I made time to help your sister with the upkeep of this place. Never mind how your father is the most passive aggressive imbecile I have ever met.”

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly, flashing with something akin to rage. Morgana, however, snorted into the crook of her elbow. “Wow…” she fought off her giggles, “it’s common knowledge in our social sphere, but having it said aloud is something else entirely.”

Merlin’s eyes never left Arthur’s, who appeared to be thinking deeply, scrutinizing him until an eerie calm smoothed his features. Merlin felt uncannily like some form of revenge was coming. “I’ll pick you up in front of your dorm at nine o’clock. _Sharp._ Gwaine and Lancel should be able to get you into something presentable, and you’re not leaving the party until I do.”

He began striding toward the house to get ready for the meeting, but Merlin called after him, “You’re keeping me prisoner at an after party?”

A mischievous glint was in Arthur’s eyes when he peered over his shoulder, but he said nothing and disappeared inside the house. Merlin looked to Morgana for input, but she only shook her head slightly, her expression a mixture of amusement and concern. “So much for boring plans.”

After lemonade and lunch, Merlin and Morgana finished with the flowerbeds and she wished him farewell until that evening. Upon entering his dorm room, Lancel and Gwaine greeted him by flashing text messages from Morgana before delving into Merlin’s wardrobe.

“The thing you need to know about Pendragon after parties,” Lancel commenced, “is that they take alcohol seriously. Even if you don’t drink, just accept the beverage offered to you and slip it in a rubbish bin when no one’s looking.”

“Why is that an issue?” Merlin asked, peering at the trousers Gwaine held up before shaking his head.

“Because every person invited is there for a reason,” Lancel informed as Gwaine dived back into Merlin’s bureau. “Uther told Arthur to invite us too, right? That’s because Gwaine and I come from influential families, not because we’re the best friends of both his children. He invited you to get to know you better, and you will be plied with alcohol to loosen you up. He also wants you to know exactly who he is and what he is capable of.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Never mind a cordial bond between student and dean. He wants to know what I can offer him or Arthur.”

“Basically,” Gwaine confirmed, meeting his gaze with seriousness and empathy. He held up a pair of dark, nearly black jeans, to which Merlin nodded. He began rifling through his shirts as he said more light heartedly, “Fortunately for Arthur, and for us, Uther is deaf to a proper sense of humor, so we can still have a good time without the bureaucratic bull shit.”

Merlin jumped into his Jeans, found his dark leather oxfords for his feet, and took the deeply crimson, button up shirt Lancel handed to him. When the time came, Merlin shrugged on his leather jacket, and they descended the stairs to the sidewalk. Merlin checked the time on his phone and with a minute to spare, Arthur pulled up in a sleek, white Audi. Merlin climbed in, sliding as close to Morgana as the car allowed, since Gwen was in the front seat. Morgana, Merlin, Gwaine, and Lancel somehow managed to fit in the back seat.

“Merlin, I see proof you actually own a brush,” Arthur commented, eyes on Merlin via rearview mirror.

“I see proof you still don’t,” he returned, eyeing Arthur’s customary, gloriously tussled hair. Those blue eyes crinkled slightly, the only sign of Arthur’s mirth as he pulled away from the dorm and sped off into the night.

“Gwen, Morgana, you look ravishing this evening,” Gwaine announced suavely. Gwen turned in her seat to make eye contact and swat Gwaine while Lancel caught her hand to kiss its back. “Oi, don’t show me up! Morgana, give me your hand. Or Merlin, you’re closer.”

Merlin laughed and noticed Arthur’s eyes flick to the rearview, but otherwise he focused on the road. Merlin observed what turns Arthur took and could not mistake the posh side of town they were entering. The rolling greens of a golf course greeted them until Arthur turned into a heavily forested drive that slithered its way up to a large, white columned structure of an elitist country club. A colonial lantern hung behind the four massive columns but a valet waited to take Arthur’s keys. He gracefully unfolded himself from the driver’s seat, opened Morgana’s car door before rounding the front and taking Gwen’s hand.

Morgana took Merlin’s elbow as they passed under the colonial lantern and then the sparkling chandelier of the foyer. They followed Arthur and Gwen up the grand staircase trimmed in red carpet, above which another foyer of sorts was occupied by people crossing between three doors. One plainly looked into the club’s restaurant and bar, where regular club members were enjoying their dinner. Opposite was a room in which apparently the gala had taken place since its floor was being swept of Pendragon fliers, badges, and pamphlets.

Two ushers dressed in crisp white shirts, waistcoats, bowties and gloves above their black slacks and shiny shoes flanked the central door. They provided Arthur and Gwen a double door entrance into a bubble of sound. Music from a live band played on the terrace, filling the ballroom through the wide-open French doors.

Merlin peeked down at Morgana and swiveled his head to get Lancel and Gwaine’s attention. “Drink first or dance?”

Morgana giggled, tugging Merlin outside with Gwaine whooping in their wake. They formed a little group on the terrace until the song changed and Morgana leaned into Merlin to whisper, “You’ve been sighted. Expect people to approach you and ask your connection to the Pendragons.”

“What should I say?” Merlin asked.

Morgana lifted an eyebrow. “Give yourself some shameless promotion. You’re an artist who’s done Arthur Pendragon a personal favor, and you’re an environmentalist with Morgana Pendragon. No one will care that we’re still in undergraduate school. You’re good friends with your advisor, right? You’re a companion of the school.”

Merlin chuckled nervously, a giddy feeling squirming in his stomach. “God, is anyone honest here?”

She surprised him, then, by circling her arms around his neck, hugging him tenderly. “We’re all liars here,” she murmured, “but don’t worry. Lancel, Gwaine, even Arthur, Gwen, and I are captive here with you.”

“Delightful,” Merlin quipped dryly, giving her a gentle squeeze before they began to separate.

“Morgana,” Arthur’s voice announced sternly. “What are you filling his head with?”

“The only truth he’s going to receive here,” she returned, facing her brother.

Gwen swept forward in her lilac, flapper dress to kiss Merlin’s cheek. “I’m spending this song with Lancel, but afterwards I expect you to be in your dancing shoes!”

He grinned and nodded obediently while Gwaine twirled Morgana away. Merlin found himself with Arthur, who looked him over once before silently bidding Merlin to follow him back inside. The blonde led him to the lacquered bar and awaited one of the tender’s attention while he inquired, “What do you drink?”

“Tea.”

Arthur gave him a look. “I mean when you’re pretending to be festive.”

“Iced tea.”

Arthur gazed at him square in the eyes. “Is there anything with alcohol that you are willing to consume?”

“Alcohol and I don’t mix well,” Merlin declined, causing Arthur to shake his head in defeat.

“Christ, it’s going to be a long night. It’s because you’re such a lightweight, you know that? The leather jacket only covers so much of your skeletal frame.”

One of the bartenders stood before him, then, and Arthur ordered, “Tell the kitchen to bring out oysters Rockefeller and I’ll take a lager. Also, a ginger ale for my friend, but garnish it with an olive.”

She nodded affirmatively, typed the food order in the computer behind her before proceeding to pour their drinks. Arthur sipped the foamy head off his beer and Merlin accepted the highball glass full of light amber, fizzy liquid. He moved the skewered olive aside and sipped the deceptively virgin drink. Arthur caught his eyes again to utter, “When you need a refill, go to her, she’ll remember. You’re about to be on a carbonated sugar high…starting now.”

“Mr. Pendragon!” a middle aged woman with a stylized bob and black cocktail dress chimed, placing a hand on his shoulder and kissing the air by his cheek. A dry martini hovered in her hand as she examined him and Merlin. “Oh you already have drinks, I see! The gala was absolutely wonderful, my dear, but I don’t recall seeing you there…”

She spoke to Arthur but her eyes were on Merlin the whole time. “Who are you, and what brings you fashionably late?”

“Merlin Emrys,” he replied smoothly, shaking her hand gently with both of his. “I was unable to attend the early event due to prior engagements. I see you’re on your last sip, though. Can I get you another?”

He could see Arthur’s bluntly surprised expression in his peripheral vision as he charmed the elder woman. She laughed merrily. “Oh! You’re too kind. Thank you!”

Merlin turned his back, forcing her to converse with Arthur, and thusly earning himself at least five minutes of freedom. When the time was up, he handed her the replenished martini and gratefully noticed that the band’s song was coming to an end. “I apologize, but I promised a friend the next dance. Excuse me.”

He couldn’t tell if Arthur was livid, jealous, or just plain confused as Merlin strolled his way to the terrace. Gwen was with Morgana and Lancel when he took her hand and pulled her into a dance. “You should know,” he warned, “that I’m using you as an excuse not to mingle, and I will likely be doing it throughout the night.”

Gwen guffawed. “Deal. These people drive me to drink.”

“How long do these things usually last?” Merlin asked hopefully.

“Depends. It could end at midnight, or we could be here until four in the morning.”

“Oh fucking hell,” Merlin cursed, taking his beverage from behind her back for a long sip. It may have been nonalcoholic, but Gwen laughed at the point he made. When he resumed the correct posture, he asked, “How was the speech?”

“It was fine,” she admitted. “Arthur wrote well and Uther presented it with all the gusto of a conniving politician.”

“How is _he_ doing?” Merlin asked carefully.

“Arthur? He’s…” She paused to consider how best to answer. “He’s Arthur. This is just another event for him.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Merlin pointed out.

The smile Gwen offered him was more melancholic than Merlin anticipated. “Whenever he’s able to answer me that question, I’ll pass along his answer.”

Merlin danced her around the terrace, using the opportunity to glance around and make sure the blonde in question was nowhere near. “He doesn’t vent to his own girlfriend?”

Her gaze was far away for a moment before she answered, “Honestly, I think so much piles on his shoulders that he doesn’t have time to really notice one thing before another takes its place.”

Merlin instinctively held her a little closer, setting his drink on the terrace's bannister so he could hold her properly. “It can’t be easy working for a bigot. Uther doesn’t know he’s bisexual, does he?”

Gwen stared at him in such a way that made Merlin’s stomach plummet. Then something dawned behind her eyes and she laughed, “Lancel told you! Yes…Arthur becomes an incredible flirt under the influence of alcohol, and Lancel was the focus of that attention last year.”

Merlin gaped. “Were they…?”

“No, no they made out one night, that’s all. Lancel’s straight but he was a good sport about it.”

Merlin laughed with her and said, “He’s drinking right now. Should we be concerned?”

“Not while his father’s around,” Gwen assured. “He keeps his wits close during these events. That being said…we should really rescue him.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Merlin admitted. With a final twirl, they finished their dance, and Merlin grabbed his drink like a shield. They found Arthur sitting at a table with his father and a few benefactors, along with empty chairs. Merlin intercepted a waiter with a tray of roasted oysters and Arthur’s blue eyes locked with his when he set the platter down before him with a reassuring smile.

Arthur sneered but his voice was warm. “I thought you abandoned me.”

“A prince is only as good as his servant,” Merlin jibed, stealing an oyster for himself and stepping back for Gwen to have the seat next to Arthur.

“Are you implying that you're good at something?” Arthur returned, eyes on Merlin as he kissed Gwen’s hand. Merlin flipped his palm toward the ceiling as his eyes rolled and his cheeks hollowed when he sucked through his straw. The image was comical and border lined ludicrous for the pretentious setting they were in, but Arthur’s gaze fell against those suddenly stark cheekbones, the lashes that danced over those dark blue eyes; he’d only glimpsed them through Merlin’s slit eyelids when they were juxtaposed against the white fur of his stuffed dragon pillow.

Merlin set his glass down, his cheeks abruptly puffed out with the amount he’d taken through the straw. His throat moved in the shadow of his chin and jacket collar, his slight but noticeable adams apple bobbing pleasantly as his jugular vein rose under his skin before he managed to supply it with air. Arthur saw moisture glisten on his full bottom lip before Merlin’s tongue dashed out to swipe the errant drop into his mouth.

He swallowed thickly, like molasses was stuck in his throat before he realized his father’s conversation was drifting towards him.

“…his charming girlfriend Guinevere, and whom I have just recently had the experience of meeting: Merlin…why, I don’t know his last name.”

Arthur’s gaze inadvertently met Merlin’s, who casually returned the gaze of the evaluating eyes staring at him expectantly. “Merlin Emrys. I’ve only recently had the pleasure of meeting Arthur and Guinevere.”

“Emrys…I have never been aware of that surname,” Uther commented.

Merlin met the grey eyes and was stunned at the slight curve in the man’s mouth. Merlin did not know how perceptive Uther Pendragon was, or if he was simply the proudest man on the face of the earth, but Merlin suddenly knew his purpose in inviting him here.

_I was not aware of you…because you’re not worth knowing. After tonight, you still will continue to not be worth knowing. You are here to learn that fact._

A malicious curl adorned Merlin’s lips, mirroring Uther’s. “You will be after tonight.”

The same middle aged woman with her dirty martini chortled from across the table. “You look about the age of Arthur. You seem to have big plans for yourself.”

“Older, actually,“ Merlin corrected mildly, “not that it matters.”

Then, much to everyone's fascination, Merlin reached toward the center of the table, where several brochures were displayed in a fanned circle. Merlin plucked one and unfolded it before holding it out to the woman. “The third panel, what do you see?”

The woman cast smug eyes to the others members of the table and then lowered them to do as he asked. “This is a brochure for the summer art exhibit in the Albion Museum downtown. It says here that it ends…tonight, actually! Oh, awful timing, but…the third panel you say…How curious.”

One of the gentlemen at the table had reached forward and opened the trifold to the panel indicated. He stated, “It’s just images of one of the featured artists…the insignia is hard to tell…”

“The initials are artistically endowed,” Merlin acquiesced, “but the artist’s name is printed there at the bottom.”

The woman’s hand flew to her chest, a drunken grin chiming, _“Merlin Emrys!_ Oh ho! Yes, yes! I see, here!”

The man chuckled as others began to lean forward for brochures. “Do you have one of these pinned to your refrigerator or something?”

“No, I designed the brochures,” Merlin answered calmly, refusing to rise to the bait. His gaze drifted sideways to Uther, whose face was a mask and he made no movements to reach for a brochure.

Then his eyes receded to Arthur, who was gazing at him with wide, astonished eyes, his lips parted. It was the most honest expression he’d given Merlin since that drug-induced night.

“Merlin…” Gwen captured his attention, her frown pointed at the dates on the brochure. “Tonight’s the last night of the exhibit…you should be there.”

He gave her a kind smile but shook his head. “I was already promised to boring plans this weekend. So here I am.”

His eyes flicked up to meet Arthur’s before looking away to innocently clean his glasses on the microfiber cloth from his pocket. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. A hand slid over his shoulder and he froze, trapped in his blind world of color and sound until he slipped his spectacles over his hears and witnessed Morgana’s smile cascading over him. “Care for another dance, handsome?”

A goofy smile flashed on his lips and he nodded, leaving the table without excusing himself.

“He is quite handsome, isn’t he?” the woman mused, watching them go. Arthur peered at his father from the corner of his eye, reading through his mask of grim indifference that he was resigned to Merlin’s existence.

When one of the others commented, “I didn’t know the Pendragons sponsored the Albion Museum. How lovely, encouragement of the arts. It is sorely needed,” Uther’s final straw of the evening snapped and he rose from the table, departing his own party while Arthur chuckled deep in his chest. Gwen watched him, smiling…and _laughing_ at a political event…she glanced out at the terrace.

Merlin recognized the first notes of the song the moment his soles touched the terrace. He lifted Morgana’s hand, twirling her all the way to the center of the dancing crowd. His hand cradled the curve of her spine as he led her in the dance, but she moved easily with him so it was impossible to tell who controlled their swaying movements, quick and then slow steps and rotations across the floor.

“Did you hear Gwaine and Lancel cheering for you?” she giggled when he slowed their pace. “I didn’t know you were an established artist.”

Merlin smiled bashfully but it faded too quickly for Morgana’s liking. “That’s incredible, Merlin! You’re a featured artist in one of the most prominent museums of the country…you even designed the damn brochures… Gwen’s right, you should be there, not here with this ungrateful crowd. Are you listening?”

Merlin’s chin was down so far he could have touched his forehead to hers if he leaned forward. His eyes lifted slowly, as if rising from a reverie. He nodded vacantly, and for a moment, Morgana feared he would not say anything more. Then he swallowed, lifted his chin, and planted a smile on his face. “There will be more. I’m not concerned,” he uttered.

From anyone else, the words would sound conceded, but as Morgana let her weight be supported by Merlin, she felt his seemingly rickety frame hold firm, supporting her as well as himself. In that moment, Morgana knew Merlin had his own mask he was hiding behind.

Merlin leaned forward, his cheek lightly pressing against Morgana’s fragrant hair as he let himself feel the music in his bones. Instead of his muscles remembering how to coordinate moves with the rhythm, he let the vibrations in his blood dictate his gestures, swaying with Morgana in his arms. His vocal chords began thrumming, replacing the missing words in her ear.

Morgana’s eyes widened, looking over Merlin’s shoulder at the band playing the instrumental music while his voice transformed into something…deep, soft, yet musically light. She carefully lifted her head so she didn’t knock his, and met his inquiring expression with astonished eyes.

 _“Merlin!”_ she breathed. “You sound…”

“Ssshh,” he hushed with a guilty, shy smile, letting his chin fall again. “I’m not supposed to sing before the open house. The a cappella managers want to use me like a secret weapon.”

Her smile was bright and enthusiastic, but her voice was quiet as she said, “I can’t wait! You’ll be incredible!”

“What are we talking about?” Gwaine announced himself, slurping on a mojito.

“Ugh! Could you have shittier timing?” she punched his shoulder, causing him to spill.

“Hmm! Abuse! Alcohol abuse! You owe me a drink!”

A genuine smile broke out across Merlin’s face as he laughed at Gwaine’s frantic endeavors to lick the drops along the side of his glass. 

“Where did Lancel go off to?” he managed to ask between giggles.

“I don’t know,” Gwaine scoffed dramatically. “He sat with Gwen and Arthur when I came out here. Just a heads up: Gwen is getting royally tipped.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked.

“She’s on her fourth drink, and we’ve been here for…what? Half an hour?”

Morgana’s spine went rigid beneath Merlin’s hand and they officially separated. “I’ll take care of her,” she announced, leaving them to check on Gwen.

“Why is she drinking so much?” Merlin wondered.

Gwaine shrugged. “Just one of those nights, mayhaps.”

Lancel joined them on the terrace for some casual dance and conversation before they were interrupted by Morgana announcing tersely and quietly: “I’m taking Gwen home. Since Uther’s left, Arthur has to manage the party, but at this rate she’ll be knackered before eleven. Merlin, you seemed tired before; do you want to come with?”

At the offer of sleep, Merlin’s eyes watered and he refrained a deep yawn, but barely. Lancel clapped his back. “Go ahead. We’ll hold the fort with Arthur.”

Merlin nodded and followed Morgana to where she’d set Gwen in the main foyer of the club. “Stay here with her. I’ll get the cab,” she said before leaving Merlin and Gwen inside.

“Your face is longer than I remember it,” Gwen commented, her eyes unusually watery. “Why the change of heart? Wasn’t that a victory back there?”

“With Arthur’s father?” Merlin shook his head. “It wasn’t anything. I got selfish.”

“Selfish?” Gwen tried to delicately wipe her eye without ruining her mascara. It did not work out too well. “You didn’t plant the brosshhh…brochures there. Uther was being a royal dick and Arthur’s too well trained to do anything. Bravo for standing up! You actually have a strong bone in your body. Merlin…”

She stood up on surprisingly stable feet but as the blood surged to her head, another wave of alcohol washed over her. “Merlin. You strike me as a person who knows himself quite well. May I ask you something?”

He placed his hands on her waist and shoulder to steady her. “I suppose. Certainly, Gwen.”

She licked her lips. “What does one do…when they’re in love with three people?”

That was not quite what he’d been expecting. “I-I’m sorry? Could you give me that in a context?”

Gwen huffed a laugh that did not have a drop of mirth in it. “Well, I shouldn’t say _three,_ just two. But I use her to distract me from both of them…”

She waved her clutch purse in the door’s direction. Merlin stared perplexedly at the doors until he saw _through_ the glass…Morgana on the phone with the taxi service.

Merlin wondered if he was interpreting this all wrong, so he ploughed ahead. “Uh huh…and, who does she distract you from?”

Without warning, Gwen was crying. She clutched his jacket gently. “I love Arthur,” she hiccuped as elegantly as a drunk woman could. “I do. I care about him, but…god, you know that feeling when someone walks into a room, and you know it in your _bones_ before you’ve even seen them? That’s what Lancel’s like…”

His eyes nearly fell out of his head. “L-Lancel?”

She nodded eagerly and then shook her head hastily, creating a headache for herself. “Yes! But we haven’t—no! Sshhh, we haven’t done anything!” she murmured in a theatrically hushed tone. “Only because Morgana is _excellent_ with damage control. _Excellent,_ Merlin…”

He blinked rapidly, trying to process all of this. He reiterated, “So you’re with Arthur, but you’re cheating with Morgana so you don’t cheat with Lancel…?”

Gwen hiccuped a giddy laugh. “Logic!”

“No…not at all,” Merlin frowned. “Gwen, I know you might not remember this in the morning, but you can’t have all three, or two, of them.”

“I know! I know I knowIknowIknow…” she nodded.

“Does Morgana know about your split affections?”

More nodding. “We’re best friends! _Best_ friends.”

“I am uncomfortably aware of that, thank you,” he sassed. “Gwen, you do realize none of this will end well?”

Her eyes widened, more appalled than frightened. “What do you mean?”

“Morgana might have feelings for you and you’re just using her. You’re staying with Arthur when you’re not entirely sure you love him, which frankly doesn't sound like love at all, and Lancel’s just hanging out to dry.”

Her palm lightly smacked the side of her cheek with astonishment. “Oh no! He can’t dry! He needs to be wet for me…”

Merlin massaged his brow, trying to drill some form of sensibility into her cloudy mind. “Well, if Lancel is the one you go to first in that scenario, then maybe you should seriously reevaluate your current life choices.”

“But Arthur will look so nice in the armor on Halloween,” she mused sadly. “Then again, so will Lancel. Thing is, Arthur needs an anchor during all this…this-ness. You’ve met his father! He needs a heavy as bollocks anchor to keep him down from that helium titan, but the more I’m with him, the more I wonder if I’m heavy enough.”

Merlin watched the scattered cogs of her mind maneuver through her strange way of thinking.

 _“You_ made him laugh tonight! I cannot stress to you how much Arthur does _not_ laugh at these things.”

“Let’s not make this about me, please,” Merlin kindly advised. He glanced sideways and saw the taxi finally pulling up.

Gwen noticed as well and she sighed heavily. “This is too much for one night. I’ll think on it later…slightly more sober. Until then, if you need to reach me, you might as well use Morgana’s number.”

“Wha—Gwen! That’s not—” he exclaimed, but she was already out the door, falling into Morgana’s arms. Merlin could only watch, dumbfounded, as Morgana carefully folded Gwen into the back seat of the taxi and waved him outside

His mind rapidly tallied up the facts: he was gay. Arthur was bisexual. Gwaine and Lancel were highly liberal. Gwen was apparently bisexual and pining after three people, two of which she frequented the beds of. Morgana was lesbian and possibly bisexual, but either way she was knowingly sleeping with her brother’s girlfriend, who not so secretly was mad for Lancel…and they all attended the school and frequented the home of a powerful, close-minded man running for a governmental office.

_Oh my god. What the hell did I transfer to?_


	5. Tight Knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin seeks help regarding the events of Saturday's gala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I didn't think you'd get this so soon, yet I'm still sorry for the wait!

Merlin was laughing with Gwaine as they exited class Monday morning when he looked up to find Arthur sitting on the concrete barrier around the garden. Once Arthur saw them, he stood, apparently waiting for their class to end. Merlin’s smile faltered and quickly faded.

“Nothing to say?” Arthur said by way of greeting after he accepted Gwaine’s hug. “You know why I’m here?”

Merlin’s stomach somersaulted down to his feet. Did Arthur know? How could he know? Merlin wasn’t sure how long Gwen had been cheating but could he have suddenly found out Saturday night—

“Merlin, you look as lost as a fish on land. You _left_ Saturday night when I told you to stay,” Arthur reminded pointedly.

Merlin’s stomach felt like it was peeking up from the ground, making sure it was safe to resume its place in his belly. Gwaine came to his rescue. “Cut him some slack. He was taking your woman home.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “I thought Morgana took her home.”

“I went with them,” Merlin confirmed. “Gwen was…shaky on her feet…to say the least.”

After Gwen’s confession Saturday night, Merlin had ridden silently in the taxi until it pulled up to his dorm building. Morgana had wished him well, joyfully ignorant, before the taxi continued on to bring the ladies to the Pendragon home. Merlin considered saying something to Morgana in the car, but in the end, his confidence had faltered, same as it was doing now. He’d only known these people for a little over a week; he felt out of place revealing something so personal to so many people.

“You have my number, Merlin,” Arthur reminded pointedly, bringing him out of his reverie. “Why didn’t you text me? I thought one of the guests might have eaten you alive…not that they’d find much on your bones.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gwaine chimed, blatantly looking Merlin over. “He’s soft in the right parts.” Merlin slapped his wrist with an audible _snap_ when Gwaine pocked his butt. “And feisty,” he added.

Merlin raked a hand through his hair while Arthur appeared dubious. “Feisty won’t save him from the museum soiree on Sunday. Let’s go to the café and try to put some meat on your bones.”

Merlin frowned but felt his feet moving when Gwaine’s arm encompassed his shoulders. “Museum soiree? What do you mean?”

Arthur fell into step on his left side, and gave him a smirk. “I mean the congratulatory party the Albion Museum is hosting for my father after you pressured him into donating to the arts.”

“I didn’t!” he blurted, but Arthur waved his exclamation away.

“It doesn’t matter. The people at the gala mistook your pamphlet as a connection between the campaign and the museum, so to stay on their good side and to keep their pocket books open, father had make the connection legitimate. They’re hosting a gathering at the museum in his honor. Congratulations, Merlin.”

“That doesn’t really mean I have to go, though, does it?” he complained.

Arthur gave him that look that suggested Merlin had grown an extra head without knowing it. “I’m not going by myself. It will be an intimate affair, so I’m only allowed to bring one person and Gwen will by busy planning the Halloween jubilee. Come on, Merlin, I’ve gone through the trouble of making sure it’s a semi-formal affair. You can wear what you wore on Saturday.”

As they approached the coffee shop, Merlin pondered, “It really doesn’t matter what I say, you’ll kidnap me if I refuse, won’t you?”

“You said it, not me. Caramel cappuccino, please,” he charmed the barista with his smile. Merlin rolled his eyes at Gwaine, who was smiling at their exchange.

“An ‘intimate affair,’” he mused, “on a warm, summer evening. That’s the stuff to inspire art, Merlin. Go and enjoy yourself. _Thoroughly,”_ he added with a strange sternness in his gaze which Merlin did not quite understand.

“Breakfast tea latte, please,” he said to the waiting barista. “And, um…just vegetable sticks with humus would be great.”

Arthur frowned at the other end of the bar. “Get the pita chips and eat your carbohydrates.”

“Vegetable sticks,” he said adamantly to the barista.

“Guinevere has moved on to designing her costume,” Arthur informed when they sat at their usual table. “She wants to know how you did the quilting on your jacket.”

“I’ll send her a link to a tutorial,” Merlin responded, lightly stirring his latte.

Arthur sipped his cappuccino but peered at Merlin over the froth. Reaching over, he slipped a hand underneath his hair to brush it back against his scalp, the better to see his face. “What’s the matter? I show up and you stop smiling. Did I piss you off that badly?”

“It’s Monday,” he countered, pushing Arthur’s wrist away so his hair fell over his brow once more. “My smiles are few and far between.”

“Preach,” Gwaine murmured, clinking his coffee mug against his latte.

“At least make eye contact with me,” Arthur rebuked. “I’m not Medusa.”

“You’re right,” Merlin quipped, “She’s prettier.”

Arthur scooped humus onto a sweet potato fry and wiped it on Merlin’s cheek. Gwaine offered to lick it off his face but Merlin firmly said no and wiped his cheek as Arthur’s laughter immediately stopped. He cursed something unintelligible under his breath, causing Merlin and Gwaine to follow his gaze to the door. _“Eegh,_ gross,” the latter commented. “They eat here too? Can we petition to ban them?”

“Who are they?” Merlin asked quietly, returning his gaze to his latte and humus. The young men who’d just strolled in were their age and likely attended their school, even though he’d never seen them before.

“Val, Cedric, and…fuck, what’s his name?” Gwaine turned to Arthur.

“Myror. He’s a foreign exchange student who fell in line with the wrong crowd,” he grated, holding his mug to his lips but not drinking from it.

“To sum it up,” Gwaine leaned close to Merlin so his murmur would not be overheard, “Val is the big brute, but every now and then he shows a spark of intelligence. If he happens to be pissed off when that happens, just run. Cedric is small but he makes up in brains where Val lacks. The swarthy one is supposedly an acclaimed athlete where he comes from, but he lost all acclamation from me when he decided Val and Cedric were pleasant company.”

“Heads up,” Arthur warned.

“Hello boys,” a low voice greeted. Merlin ventured a glance over his shoulder and dragged his eyes up the tall frame of who could only be Val. He was taller than Arthur and was gesturing to the empty bench and two chairs. “Quite a table for only three people, mind if we join?”

Without waiting for a response, they began surrounding the table. Merlin felt something brush against his flesh and then a sharp tug on his jeans as Arthur dipped his fingers into his waistline and physically pulled him to the seat adjacent to him. Gwaine followed suit so Merlin had Arthur on one side and Gwaine on the other, while Val, Cedric, and Myror took the opposite side of the table.

“Arthur, I haven’t seen you since…well since this morning. You were standing behind your father while he gave a speech on the television," Val stated. He chuckled, seeming to find something amusing in his words. His eyes fell on the dish of hummus nestled in a bowl of raw and roasted vegetable sticks. “Rabbit food? Whose on a diet here?”

Merlin expected Gwaine and Arthur to peer at him, but his mind was unable to prepare a response…but he didn’t have to. His eyes dropped to Arthur’s lightly tanned hand reaching for the sweet potato fry he’d swiped over Merlin’s face before returning it to the bowl. “What do you mean?” he asked rhetorically, popping the fry into his mouth and chewing with satisfied gusto. “Does everything you eat have to be fried or dead?”

Gwaine took the cue and audibly crunched on a parmesan zucchini chip. “Crunchy greens make healthy bones and spleens.”

He turned casually to meet Merlin’s gaze with inconspicuous warmth in his eyes. Merlin tried to return it the best he could before venturing a glance at Arthur, but his blue irises were focused on the three sitting opposite them.

“So when is your daddy coming to give a speech to the school?” Val diverted.

“He isn’t,” Arthur countered. “Not only is it illegal to solicit the school for endorsement, it’s below him.”

Val’s features drooped in a frown. “What, the votes of his students mean nothing to him?”

“The student body is largely active in the political realm. If they want to vote for him, they don’t need to personally shake his hand to do it.”

Val didn’t seem to care much for Arthur’s rebuttal and stated, “Then again, he doesn’t need to visit his own campus when he’s got you parading around for him: the perfect primrose son.”

Arthur did not get a chance to retort because at that moment, Cedric was eyeing Merlin. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”

The attention diverted to Merlin, who had abandoned his food in the tense atmosphere. “I haven’t anything to say,” he responded mildly.

“Empty head, empty tongue,” Cedric mused.

“My tongue relishes quality, not quantity, as does my mind,” Merlin returned easily. “My time is limited. If something bores me, I do not spare thoughts or words with it—”

His pocket started vibrating, and he silently thanked his mother for her omniscient timing. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

He drained his latte in one gulp and set it on the counter along with the emptied bowl for the barista to clean. The coffee shop’s bell jingled behind him as he answered, “Mom? Hi.”

“Hi, sweet heart!” her warm voice reverberated through the speaker. “I’m sorry I’m late calling—how was your first week?”

“It was fine. Good, even,” he replied, meandering along the sidewalk with the phone to his ear.

“How was your exhibition? I hate myself for not being able to make it. Airfare is ridiculous and the—”

“Mom, don’t worry about it,” he curtailed. “You’ve seen plenty of my things before. Once you’ve been to one showcase, you’ve been to them all.”

“Oh hush,” she scolded. “You know I’m proud of every event you’re a part of. When’s your next exhibit? How are you eating?”

He sighed, loving and tolerating his mother for her over protectiveness. “I’m eating fine; I just left a café, actually. The fall open house is in three weeks but it’s too short notice. The school’s main showcase is in the spring.”

“Send me the dates and I’ll see what I can do. I spoke to Professor Gaius,” she informed. “He said you’re making good friends.”

The ghost of a smile graced his lips. “I think so…still testing the waters, though.”

“What’s wrong?” she sensed.

“Nothing, nothing you need to worry over,” he assured. “They’re just a tight knit group…I’m still figuring out if I fit into it or not.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve met them, regardless,” she said as his feet took him in front of the antiquity-styled building that housed history and philosophy classes. He set his bag on the concrete stairs leading up to the building and leaned against one of the columns; in front of the structure was a fountain pool beneath a bronze compass rose. “You’ve always prospered better in the company of friends. Do they know…?”

“One of my roommates does,” he replied, “but I don’t think it would faze any of the others.”

“That’s good! Isn’t it?”

He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “I suppose.”

“Have you met anyone?” she ventured.

“Mom,” Merlin rebuked darkly.

“Merlin,” she returned calmly. “Don’t tell me you’re occupying all of your time to your computer. You need fresh air. Sunlight.”

“I’m under the sun _now,_ and the air won’t be fresher than this until I travel to my internship.”

“What internship?” said a voice behind him.

Merlin gasped, whirling around so quickly Arthur grabbed his arm easily to steady him on his feet. Merlin felt nearly weightless in his grip. He glanced at his phone, where his mother was calling, “Honey? Are you okay? Who was that?”

“Sorry, a…friend of mine. I’ve got to get to class in a couple minutes. I’ll call you later,” he finished.

“Don’t you dare hang up before you tell me you love me,” she intercepted. 

“Fine. I love you, Mom,” he hung up and faced Arthur’s curious gaze.

“Friend?” he mused. “Since when did that happen?”

Merlin frowned. “You called me a friend first.”

“Mmm…I don’t recall,” Arthur pursed his lips theatrically. “Now what internship is this?”

“Why did you follow me?” Merlin countered.

Arthur sighed. “I didn’t. Your exit gave Gwaine and me an excuse to leave, and I’ve got a class here, same as you apparently. Are you going to answer the bloody question or not?”

“I’ve got an internship this winter, that’s all,” he answered, shrugging his rucksack on his shoulder and marching toward the double doors.

“That’s hardly an answer, but fine, keep your secrets,” Arthur followed. “Did you look over my homework?”

Merlin paused on the stairs. “No, I didn’t.”

Arthur did not seem surprised. “I’ll come to breakfast tomorrow before chemistry. Eight o’clock sharp.”

“As a razor,” Merlin huffed under his breath as he ascended to his philosophy class, which was actually in Gaius’s office.

“Ah, Merlin,” the elderly man greeted jovially. “I spoke with your—”

“Mother, yes, I just got off the phone with her, actually,” Merlin finished, setting his bag down at the table on the other side of the office and withdrawing a plethora of books and a thick spiral notebook with neon tabs sticking out of it.

“Is something bothering you?” Gaius asked, giving Merlin pause. He felt like he was caught in the headlights of that gaze.

“We’re wasting time. This is a class, not a meeting.” He opened his notebook and the corresponding book to the last notes he’d written.

Gaius rose from his chair and came around the desk to sit opposite Merlin. “It is typical of us to chat after class. Whether we go over the material or converse first, the order does not matter. You chose to finish your philosophy minor via independent study, so here we are. Tell me what fills your head, because I know it is not Beauvoir or Nietzsche at the moment.”

Merlin’s finger flicked one of his neon blue tabs until he finally admitted, “I learned some things Saturday night that are bothering me. I want to tell someone, but they involve several people I am involved with daily, and…I want to do something but I don’t feel it is my place to interfere.”

“I see…” Gaius inhaled and exhaled before he asked, “Can you tell me whom this information involves? Give me a context.”

“Mostly it involves Arthur,” he replied quietly, as if someone might be listening on the other side of the thick, English walnut door.

“Would this information in any way impact you if he were to find out?” his advisor queried.

“Only if I’m the one who tells him,” Merlin replied, “but it integrates the closest people in his life in unpleasant ways.”

Merlin took a deep breath because there was really no way he could beat around the elephant any longer. “Gwen is cheating on Arthur…with his sister.”

He only clue as to Gaius’s surprise was how his snowy brows lifted. “You’re sure of this?”

Merlin nodded reluctantly. “Gwen told me herself after she’d had too many drinks. She also said she was in love with Lancel, one of my roommates and one of Arthur’s closest friends. I want to do something, but this information could shatter the group. Arthur deserves the truth but he doesn’t deserve to lose his friends. Morgana is our partner in chemistry! God, what would that do to our labs…?”

“‘Deserves?' I’m glad to see you and Arthur have come quite a ways since you last spoke of him to me,” Gaius mused. “But you are not wrong to think that this must stop. I would say sooner rather than later would be best for Arthur, but do you know how long this has been going on?”

Merlin shook his head. “Since before I arrived but it could be months…I don’t know how long he and Gwen have been together.”

“Mmh,” Gaius hummed ominously. “If my memory serves…since Arthur’s first year here. They should be approaching a two year anniversary soon.”

Merlin groaned as he scrubbed his hands over his face, dislodging his glasses. “There’s no good way out of this.”

“Sooner rather than later,” Gaius repeated, “but more importantly, why would you think it wasn’t your right to interfere? They are your friends, are they not? You care about their wellbeing, and they value your thoughts. This gives you every right.”

“I’ve known them for a _week_ ” he emphasized. “They’ve known each other for months, if not years. As far as I know, Lancel is innocent in all this, but Morgana…I don’t understand why Arthur’s sister would do this, and they’re a team against their bigot of a father. I can’t tear the strongest ally Arthur has from him.”

Gaius’s eyes poured into his. “How good of an ally is she if she knowingly does this? I remember Morgana being an incredibly intelligent and compassionate person. She may have been a bit devious at times but this is highly out of character for her. I don’t doubt what you say, Merlin, but perhaps the best course of action for now is simply to investigate further.”

Merlin’s cheek was planted on his palm as he stared at his advisor dubiously. “So I should directly ask Morgana why she invites Gwen into her bed instead of keeping her in Arthur’s?”

Gaius chuckled. “Perhaps in softer terms, but yes. I’m sure you will figure it out, Merlin. If nothing else, Lancel ought to know his place in all this. Just be sure not to spark the kindling. Be sure to _know_ the facts before you start trading them around. Now, what can you tell me about Beauvoir without reviewing your notes?”

The day passed without incident until Merlin was entering his dorm room while his phone vibrated. The text was from Gwen: _Arthur prepared fliers for the jubilee! (Thank you by the way, since I'm sure they must be from you.) They’ll be all over campus tomorrow, but we officially need to start planning! Are you free this weekend?_

Did she remember? Merlin wasn’t sure how to ask her, and he didn’t think via text was the best option, so he answered honestly: _Arthur’s dragging me to a museum thing on Sunday and I’ll be working the rest of the time, but if I find a break I’ll call you._

Her response was a couple minutes later. _Museum thing…oh right! He did mention it, but I’m busy that evening so I didn’t pay much attention. Have fun! Save some space for me next weekend if you can!_

Merlin showered but the only result was a refreshed body, so he collapsed onto his plethora of pillows before this alarm announced the following morning. True to his word, Arthur was already there, homework out and ready.

“Finally, you’re here,” he complained. “People keep giving me strange looks and trying to shake my hand.”

Merlin peered at him. “You know who you are, right?”

Arthur matched his deadpan expression fiercely. “That doesn’t mean I enjoy human interaction before breakfast. Here, compare our answers.”

Merlin was rather surprised that one of his own answers was wrong in comparison to Arthur’s, but otherwise they endured breakfast smoothly and handed in their homework to Dr. Agravaine at the start of class. Right before they were assigned Bunsen burners.

Arthur hummed to himself while giving Merlin a smirk. Keeping his face neutral, Merlin went to gather the necessary test tubes, forceps, and samples of chemicals while Morgana arranged the lab report. She was not acting any differently since Saturday night and Merlin firmly reminded himself to not let his curiosity distract him from their lab.

“Green bubbles…oddly sweet smell,” Arthur relayed to her as she recorded the data of the chemical reactions.

Merlin prepped the next test tube before slotting it into the holder above the flame. The powder reacted with the solvent and began bubbling like the first specimen. “It smells…” Arthur pondered. “Well, it doesn’t smell good.”

“It’s pond scum burning,” Merlin explained, reading from the textbook.

Arthur shook his head, his nose wrinkling the longer the greenery cooked. “That’s foul. Next.”

With a mortar and pestle, Merlin was grinding the crystals into a powder for the next experiment. He carefully funneled the paper to pour into the glass tube. “Ten milliliters of hydrosul— _hhah!”_

The glass shattered upon contact with the flame, scattering the lab partners. Merlin’s shoulder blades slammed into the fume hood behind them. The class went silent for a moment before giggles broke the tension.

“Well it’s nice to know something of value came from the campus store,” Arthur jibed, adjusting his safety goggles. “Merlin, could you get the broom—Merlin?”

He hadn’t moved. Merlin’s lungs reminded him to breath so his chest heaved as his wide eyes stared blindly at the counter where the Bunsen still burned. Merlin tried wiping his eyes but his goggles overlaid his glasses, and it became a tangle of fingers and plastic on his face until Arthur announced to no one, “For some reason, the broom seems to be in the hallway. Let’s go get it,” and steered Merlin out the side door.

He finally managed to get his goggles off by the time they were out there, and he removed his spectacles so he could wipe his face in the bend of his elbow. He let it linger there, hidden when Arthur said, “What just happened? Some glass shattered, that’s it. Why are you in shock?”

Merlin sighed heavily; for once he was glad he couldn’t see anything, such as Arthur’s disappointed gaze. But he felt a large, warm hand grasp his shoulder, which then lightly slid down to stroke between his shoulder blades. Merlin stood frozen, unsure what to do so he haphazardly continued wiping his face on his sleeve.

That warm hand pressed flat over his spine and blades. He heard Arthur sigh, “You really don’t eat enough, Merlin…you’re too thin.”

“That’s not my fault,” he breathed, shoving his glasses back onto his face.

“What do you mean?” Arthur wondered. Merlin glanced at him and found such a shocking amount of genuine concern in his eyes that he didn’t know how to deal with such focus on him.

“Nothing. Come on, Morgana needs us,” he ushered, leading the way into the laboratory before Arthur could push the subject.

“Everything all right, gentlemen?” Dr. Agravaine welcomed back.

“Yes, sir,” Merlin returned while reaching for the broom that blatantly rested in the corner.

“Don’t bother with that, Mr. Emrys,” Agravaine hindered. “It’s already been cleaned up. No cuts on your skin, I hope?”

“No, sir. Thank you.” He replaced the broom and unconsciously kept his head down as he took Morgana’s place with the paperwork.

After several moments, she leaned in to whisper, “Are you really okay?”

 _No…not at all._ “Yes,” he smiled. “It was just a shock. I’m fine.”


	6. Ring Like a Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's museum soiree does not proceed as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE COSMOS ARE ALIGNED IN OUR FAVOR! Behold! Another double update! Read on and prosper ;)

Merlin was not sure if he was unconsciously avoiding his friends or if they were as busy as he was, but before he knew it, Gwaine and Lancel were trudging into the dining hall with him for Friday breakfast. Merlin was plopping a slice of lemon into his water as Gwaine scanned the juice selection.

“I see they still haven’t read my email suggesting champagne for Friday mimosas,” he complained groggily. He settled on orange juice and muttered, “Lads, it’s the second week and I’m already knackered. It’s barely eight in the morning and I need a drink. Is anyone coming to the pub with me later?”

“Athletic trainers are needed on the rugby pitch from four to nine, but I’ll shower and swing by,” Lancel proffered.

Merlin shook his head. “Working.”

“But it’s Friday!” Gwaine scolded. He was quickly distracted by the arrival of the pancake chef and left Merlin and Lancel at their table.

“Are you all right?” Lancel queried. “You’ve been…lackluster lately.”

Merlin mixed his berries and yogurt before shrugging. “I’m in the same boat with Gwaine, I guess.”

Lancel’s brows furrowed upward. “You guess? Does it have to do with the lab explosion on Tuesday?”

Merlin’s gaze perked up. “You heard about that?”

He nodded. “Arthur didn’t say much about it, but that usually means his mind’s too busy to formulate words. I think you scared him. Was it that bad?”

Merlin felt his arteries engorge as blood pumped up his throat, reverberating in his ears. Arthur afraid was as oxymoronic as an unattractive Lancel or an ungallant Gwaine. He shook his head, willing his heart to calm the hell down. “The test tube shattered over the Bunsen burner, that’s all. There wasn’t any chemical explosion.”

Lancel watched him with a steady gaze, and for a moment he looked ready to persist the subject. Instead, he forked eggs and sausage into his mouth and ushered, “I don’t want to pry where you don’t want attention, but I also don’t want you preoccupied with something you could get off your chest. If you don’t want to tell me, fine, but don’t be afraid to talk to somebody.”

He left that in the air as he continued eating, letting the topic go until Merlin glanced to see if Gwaine was still waiting on pancakes before saying, “Even if the subject has to do with the person I tell it to?”

Lancel’s amber eyes perked up. “If it’s about me at least, I would want to know about it.”

Merlin exhaled deeply and said, “Look, don’t take this too seriously, because it was given to me under the influence of a lot of alcohol, but…Gwen’s in love with you.”

He fell silent, letting that sink into his roommate. He waiting for surprise, confusing, possibly even shock…which never came. “I know,” Lancel murmured.

Merlin blinked. “You _know?_ What do you mean, you know?”

Lancel chuckled quietly, taking a sip of his water. “Gwen and I dated a while back, but I had to move away, so we broke up. Life surprised me by moving me back here, but by then she was already with Arthur.”

Merlin was experiencing all of the emotions he’d expected Lancel to feel. “How are you so blasé about this?”

Lancel shrugged but his features drooped somewhat. “I won’t lie to you, Merlin. I love her back. I always have. We were each other’s firsts and we will always be each other’s firsts. But I also love Arthur, and I won’t hurt the dearest people to me just to pursue my own interests.”

“But she—” Merlin blurted. Lancel gazed at him expectantly. “But she…what if she loves you more?”

Lancel laughed more fully. “Are you telling me I should break them up?”

“No! Of course not, I just…I feel like this is a train that runs out of tracks eventually.”

“What about trains?” Gwaine arrived, drizzling pecan syrup over his stack of cakes.

“We’re talking about Gwen, Arthur, and me,” Lancel provided.

 _“Ooh,_ as in _you_ and Gwen?” Gwaine uttered, shocking Merlin anew. They locked eyes and he finished, “Proper conundrum, it is.”

“You _know?"_ Merlin blurted like a broken record.

Gwaine tipped his stubbly chin upward as if to tally how many people were aware of this. “Yep, just about everybody knows except Arthur.”

Merlin gaped dumbly between them. “What about Morgana?”

“What about her?” Lancel frowned curiously.

Merlin huffed a breath, “She’s sleeping with Gwen!”

His roommates fell silent, forks frozen in the air. “That’s new,” Gwaine muttered.

Merlin sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his scalp. “I don’t actually know if it’s true; I haven’t spoken to Morgana about it, but Gwen told me this Saturday night. I don’t think she remembers, either.”

“Got it,” Gwaine nodded, sealing his lips with an invisible zipper. “Mum’s the word. But if Gwen told you herself…that’s highly suspicious. _Our plot thickens…”_ he added theatrically before he noticed Lancel’s expression. “Uh oh, are you jealous?”

Lancel appeared to be torn between jealousy and confusion. “Why is she sleeping with Morgana?” he wondered quietly. “She’s Arthur’s…”

“I know!” Merlin whined, planting his head in his hands. “It’s none of my business but I couldn’t just ignore something like that.”

“Curiouser and curiouser…” Gwaine stroked the bristles on his chin.

“You did the right thing, Merlin,” Lancel consoled. “I haven’t the faintest idea how to proceed from here, but if nothing else, we’ll be able to provide damage control…starting with Morgana. We can’t let those two have slumber parties with Arthur in the next room anymore.”

“I can distract Morgana,” Gwaine offered, “and get Percy and Leon involved, but you’re the best chance of keeping Gwen occupied.”

“Does Elyan know?” Merlin realized.

“That’s a good question,” Gwaine grimaced. “Percy and Leon already had a clue but her brother…that’s hard to say. Then again, he could be our best inlet to getting some sense into her.”

“I don’t want this blowing up into a big deal,” Merlin uttered firmly. “Don’t bring anyone else into it. Just work on Morgana and Gwen.”

They finished breakfast and he and Gwaine headed off to class. The latter was disappointed when Merlin announced he was going straight to Gaius’s office afterward, but the elderly man greeted him and eagerly listened to the latest developments. He seemed wholly amused at the fact that Lancel and Gwaine were already aware of Gwen’s affections, but otherwise Gaius was glad Merlin was not shouldering the information alone anymore.

With the arrival of the evening, Merlin nestled into his bed and pillows with his ear buds plugged into his ears and the room all to himself. He emailed Gwen a series of tutorials along with images of fabric and color swatches for her to consider in her plans since he did not yet trust himself not to blurt something in her company. Lancel arrived a little after nine to shower and keep his word to Gwaine, but otherwise Merlin had a night to himself.

Saturday passed in the graphic lab, only interrupted by Gwaine coming in to do homework with him and to drag him to the café for lunch with Percy.

Sunday, however, started with Merlin stumbling out of bed to answer the incessant knocking on his door. “What?" he hissed, trying not to disturb his roommates who had miraculously not awoken.

Arthur stood tranquilly on the other side of the doorjamb, his eyes roaming over Merlin’s oversized plaid, flannel shirt and cotton shorts. His gaze settled on Merlin’s glasses and the small crack along the corner of one of the lenses. “Get dressed,” he commanded softly, stepping forward to press the glasses up the bridge of his nose. Arthur’s hand slipped easily over Merlin’s forehead to rake through his hair in passing. Merlin swayed slightly with the tug on his hair, blinking heavily as a wave of Arthur’s scent washed over him, clean, warm, and slightly sweet.

“We’re going to breakfast,” Arthur informed, sitting on his bed. He glanced at the halo of pillows and the obvious blank space where Merlin’s body had been.

“Arthur, has anyone ever told you that you are obscenely bossy?” Merlin responded.

“No,” he responded easily, “although I think they always found it to be a part of my charm.” He leaned over, claiming Merlin’s space on the bed with his wide shoulders and long, outstretched legs. “Cover those pasty legs of yours. We can’t frighten small children on our way to breakfast.”

Merlin sighed. “What about Lancel and Gwaine?” he asked from the bathroom while he buttoned his softest pencil jeans under his red plaid.

Arthur glanced at his roommates, particularly Gwaine, who wore a white shirt with bold black letters spelling: _No pants are the best pants._ “Let them sleep. I’m here to make sure you don’t skip out on tonight’s soiree, any how.”

Merlin jerked his Converse on and grabbed the nearest scarf: a sea foam green one that felt like butter against his cheek. “Arthur, if you want to spend the day with me, all you have to do is send a gloriously silent text.”

Arthur stood from the bed and playfully shoved Merlin's head to the side. “Like I could count on you climbing out of that mountain of pillows. Let’s go, I’m starving.”

At the sight of Arthur’s white Audi parked on the curb, Merlin inquired, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere I won’t get strange looks while I do something as mundane as eating,” he responded, unlocking the vehicle with his key ring remote. Merlin had not appreciated the interior of Arthur’s car when he was crammed in the back, but as he settled into the front seat, he admired the spacious, cozy elegance in which the vehicle was upholstered.

Arthur drove smoothly through minimal traffic until the foliage on the sides of the road switched to palms and sand dusted the road. He parked in a lot nestled among sand dunes and led the way into what was likely a formal dining experience once the sun went down. In the morning, though, it was a casual Sunday affair. The hostess took them to the other side of the building where an open terrace overlooked the beach. A seagull squatted on the nearest dune, still sound asleep.

“Why this place?” Merlin wondered, thinking how even for a Sunday morning it was a bit upscale.

“I like their steak and kidney pie,” Arthur revealed, eyes on the menu. “More specifically, their coffee.”

His eyes were still downcast when the waitress arrived, but Merlin’s head was swiveling to admire the teak flooring and the rafters stretching over their heads, so he noticed how she locked onto Arthur. “Good morning,” she greeted sweetly, sparing a glance at Merlin. “Can I get you coffee, water, juice?”

“Bring a pot of the house roast,” Arthur informed as the waitress pushed a lock of sandy blond hair behind her ear. “I’ll have the knight’s entrée, as well.”

She nodded and turned to Merlin. “A glass of mango juice and the spinach and artichoke soufflé, please.”

As soon as she dashed to get Arthur’s coffee, Merlin commented, “You’ll be seeing her number on your bill.”

Arthur removed his gaze to the view and hummed distractedly, “Hmph.”

Merlin’s smirk evaporated. “Was there another reason you came over so early?”

Those clear blue eyes focused on him. “It’s unsettling how you do that. I walked out of the house without Morgana even batting an eyelash and suddenly I’m an open book in front of you.”

The side of Merlin’s mouth curved up in a smile. “Either she wasn’t paying attention or your lack of food is obstructing your game. What’s bothering you?”

The ghost of a smirk floated across Arthur’s lips. “Why should I tell you?”

Merlin’s sapphire eyes rolled. “You’re right. Never mind, you only dragged me out of bed and will later shove me into some soiree which is hardly my fault.”

“It is most certainly your fault,” Arthur chuckled. “It is your fault for standing up to my father. As far as he’s concerned, that after party was a disaster and he is marching into this evening with a plan to make sure you don’t take the spotlight from him.”

“Heaven forbid an artist holds more power than the politician,” Merlin scoffed.

“That is exactly the position he is in,” Arthur emphasized, “and you made him realize that Saturday night. Needless to say, he is not amused.”

“But you are?” Merlin wondered, observing the gradient of emotions flowing behind Arthur’s eyes.

He thought about it for a long moment before he admitted, “I supposed I have been handling my father’s temper so long it is a relief witnessing someone else dealing with it.”

Merlin’s eyelids dropped in annoyance. “Arthur, if you’re forcing me into this soiree to act as your human buffer—”

Arthur guffawed, then, his smile blossoming and his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Please…” he caught his breath, “if I need a shield, I will acquire one. Besides, the true extent of his temper as always been reserved for me and me alone.”

His smile diminished with every word until he finally gazed out to the sea with a deep-set mask on his face. Merlin was not sure what to say, so for a long while they said nothing at all. Arthur’s mood palpably lifted with the arrival of the copper coffee pot, which was set between them along with Merlin’s juice. “So tell me about this internship,” he prompted once he’d taken his first sip.

Merlin gauged his level of interest before he relayed to him what he’d already told Gwaine. “It’s in the winter but it’s still along the coast, so there will be hiking, canoeing, and camping weekends,” he added cheerfully.

Arthur’s expression opened. “You’re going to need to exercise to be ready for all that, and to eat the necessary calories.”

Merlin’s features became stern. “I’ll be ready when the time comes.”

The blonde frowned keenly. “You’re even more sensitive about eating than I am.”

“Only because you keep bringing it up,” he returned.

“Tell me how you really feel, Merlin,” Arthur teased.

“Don’t I already?”

That smile returned. “Yes, in fact you do.”

Their food arrived and then sure enough, the waitress had scrawled her number on Arthur’s half of the bill. His lips curved in a slight smirk but otherwise he paid silently before they drove back to campus. Arthur dropped him off, warning him to be ready by six o’clock. Merlin managed to scramble through the last of his homework before the deadline arrived. True to Arthur’s suggestion, he ultimately wore the same black jeans and leather jacket over his oxfords, the only difference being the dark violet shirt.

Arthur made note of it when he they parked and strolled to the museum’s entrance. “Purple?” he wondered, folding the edge of leather back for a proper look. “That’s oddly a nice color on you.”

They were soon swept away with the museum patrons, political benefactors, and waiters hovering with silver platters of champagne. Merlin immediately noticed the museum’s curator approaching and shared his smile, glad to recognize someone.

“Mr. Emrys! Such a pleasure to see you again!” The man was tall and thin like a reed, but he had a head full of silver hair and a passion for art and history that was unparalleled.

“Yes indeed,” came another voice which Merlin remembered. Uther Pendragon extended his hand, “The young man of the hour.”

Merlin plastered a smile on his face and shook his hand, already out of patience. “Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Pendragon. I’m sorry, but can you excuse me? I need to eat something before I become inhospitable.”

The curator laughed jovially and showed him to the room where a buffet of hors d‘oeuvres awaited. Merlin chewed languidly on a cracker piled with grilled tuna, basil, and tomato. He noticed that the center of the party was in the foyer and side exhibits, but everywhere else, including upstairs, was in shadow. The outer exhibits were not closed off, but the dimmed lighting suggested they were not to be entered.

Merlin skirted around the party, wandering upstairs and eating his small platter of tuna crackers while passing beneath light and shadow, gazing up at the sculptures, paintings, glass fixtures...

“Mmph…hmm…here?” a woman’s voice moaned, causing Merlin to stop in his tracks.

“Why not?” a male voice purred.

Merlin saw a blue high heel clatter out from behind a statue nestled in an alcove and promptly turned on the ball of his foot to stride as fast as he could in the other direction.

“Making a run for it already?” Arthur’s voice caught him in mid stride. Merlin paused and met his gaze. “Some people are asking for you,” Arthur nodded toward the party.

“Mmm,” he acknowledged, and pointed down the corridor. “Don’t go in the east wing. It’s currently the make out corner.”

Arthur peered over his shoulder while Merlin placed the last cracker on his tongue. His phone vibrated, then, and he extracted it to read the name on the screen. “Mumph?” he said around the mouthful.

“Merlin?” his mother said curiously.

He swallowed thickly. “Sorry, I was eating.”

“I’m so glad,” she laughed airily, but something about it was far from happy.

“Mom?” Merlin said again. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes,” she uttered quickly, but her voice was tired, hollow. “Just wanted to see how you were. Work here has been stressful of late, and I’m living vicariously through you for a relief. How are you? What are you eating?”

“Um, tuna…Mom, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing too critical…we’ve already had our first frost and some of the crop has taken a hit. It surprised us, and the garden has wilted but it hasn’t died, but you know people demand their flowers to be pubescent.”

The sound of a baby crying reached his ears. “Are you at the neighbor’s?”

“Yes. The baby’s growing like a weed; a large wonder considering…”

“Considering? What do you mean?”

His mother hesitated on the line before revealing, “The landlord, the baby’s father, returned. He was as unexpected as the frost, but he blames us for the hit on the plants. I can only imagine how he will react when he learns his ex-wife and I purchased the land deed from his lawyer. It’s his fault for vanishing without a word to anybody for so long—oh, and now the baby’s crying—”

Merlin could hear her traversing the house while the sound of crying grew louder. But as the baby’s wails grew in volume, so did the muffled shouts of an argument. A violent one.

“Mom?” he called.

“…did you expect?” a woman screamed. “…my baby and this is my home!”

“Hey, hey, honey, take a breath and calm dow—”

_SCHMAK!_

“Mom?” he said weakly.

The sound of breathing was heard over the receiver. “Sorry, sweet heart,” her voice came, but it was heavy with tears. Merlin knew the sound of her holding back sobs. “I hope you’re having a lovely time where ever you are. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I love you.”

The call ended.

Arthur was standing right in front of Merlin, gazing worriedly between him and the phone. “What was that?”

“I…I need to go home,” Merlin breathed. He opened an app on his phone and searched for flights leaving that night or the following morning. The prices on such short notice were just short of immoral.

“Where is home?” Arthur inquired.

“Four hours by plane,” Merlin exhaled, as if just saying it was as hopeless as the journey was likely to be.

Suddenly, Merlin’s phone was torn from his gaze as Arthur gripped his wrist and pulled him down the corridor. He had his own phone out and was dialing a number. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed as they descended the stairs.

By way of answer, Arthur said into the device, “Hello, this is Arthur Pendragon. I’m sorry I’m not telling you this in person but Mr. Emrys and I must see to an emergency. Thank you so much for the event… No, no the pleasure was ours…Yes, of course…Bye, then.”

He pulled Merlin right out of a side door of the museum and continued to hold onto him as they went in search of the car. Arthur found another number on his phone and dialed. “Hello? This is Arthur. I need the jet ready in twenty minutes. Yes, for an approximately four-hour ride… Of course this isn’t a joke. Do you know what time it is? I’m giving the phone to my companion; he’ll tell you the location and airports in the area.”

Merlin found the phone thrust in his other hand and he tentatively spoke to the irked pilot on the other end. Arthur only released him when it came time to enter the car, and before Merlin knew it, the car was screeching to a halt inside a brightly lit hangar. “I’m not sure whether I should be surprised that you have a plane.”

“My father is a recreational pilot,” Arthur explained nonchalantly, marching into the pilot’s office. Merlin remained where he was and stared at the sparkling white craft in front of him. The tail was red while the name _Pendragon_ had been expertly crafted so the letters formed the silhouette of a gold dragon. “Are you going to stare at it all night or do you want to see your mother?”

Merlin gaped at Arthur, who’d returned and was waiting for him by the stairs that had been flipped out of the belly of the craft. “Are you serious?”

“Merlin, do you have any idea how much jet fuel costs? Get in the damn plane.”

He obediently ran up the stairs and settled in a plush white seat. Arthur took the seat opposite him and set his phone on the cherry wood table between them. “Still hungry?” he asked conversationally, as if he had not just stolen his father’s plane to cross the country on a moment’s notice. “The steward usually keeps wine coolers and sandwich materials stocked.”

Merlin buckled his seatbelt as the jet glided into motion. He swiped the window covering up to see them steering out of the hangar and onto the onyx runway. In another few moments, they were in the air.

“Why are you doing this?” he couldn’t help asking.

Arthur peeked up from his mobile screen. “What do you mean?” When Merlin’s sole response was a deadpan glare, he stated, “You said you needed to go home. I’m getting you there faster, and depending on how long this takes, I wasn’t going to be stuck with only Morgana as a lab partner. If you think I’m bossy, you should be stuck with her for once.”

Merlin frowned but there was amusement there. “I was when you skipped class last week.”

“Ahh…how was that?” Arthur mused, setting his phone down. Merlin was surprised how easily they filled the hours with their conversation and banter. His heart felt light and his stomach only hurt from laughing until the pilot announced their landing descent. Arthur wanted to get a rental car but Merlin refused to wait the forty-five minutes and hailed one of the cabs waiting outside of the airport.

The air was familiar here, the humidity and the memories it carried seeping into Merlin’s bones. The air had a crisp bite to it that made him zip his jacket and adjust his scarf tighter. At one point Arthur asked, “Uh…Merlin. Is this the right direction?”

“Yes, My house is that dot on the horizon.”

“You live on a farm?” Arthur reiterated, flabbergasted.

“It’s a flower farm,” Merlin explained, “that’s why it doesn’t look like much right now. That barn is actually a green house. We grow some crops and herbs, as well.”

“Huh,” Arthur acknowledged curiously, a comical lift in his upper lip causing Merlin to giggle.

Merlin was still fishing for his wallet when Arthur already paid the cab driver. He murmured a hurried thanks and bounded up the stairs to his house, using the spare key hidden among the tulips. “MOM?” he called, bounding through the small foyer and adjoining living room. A lamp had been left on, but otherwise the first floor was dark. 

Arthur met him on the stairs with a shake of his head. “No one’s upstairs.”

“Then she’s still at the neighbor’s,” Merlin deduced, running out the back door.

“Do you _have_ neighbors?” Arthur wondered, peering around but easily keeping up with Merlin as he crested the hill behind the house. “Oh.”

The valley opened below them to reveal homes dotted across the dormant and active fields of blooms. The nearest house was alight in every window, and as they ran nearer, they could hear the argument that had started over the phone.

Arthur reached the front door first, and he only paused to look at Merlin to see if one of the voices inside was his mother’s. When Merlin nodded, he opened the unlocked door without even knocking.

“Who the _fuck_ are you?” a man bellowed. He may have had a beer belly but his forearms resembled hams.

“Merlin?” his mother emerged from the kitchen, the neighbor’s baby protectively held to her chest while tears glistened on both of their faces. A ruddy start to a black eye swelled on her face. The baby’s mother looked worse.

The landlord backhanded her with enough force to make her stumble back a step, the baby crying with renewed panic. “I’ll get back to you, bitch, but I’m gonna deal with these fucking intrud—”

Arthur had a second’s warning to get out of the way as Merlin gripped the aluminum baseball bat by the door and swung at the man’s head.

_DIINNnnnnnggg!_

He dropped like a sack of clay, causing the floor to shiver. The women stared at the unconscious figure until Arthur’s laughter broke the tension. “Fucking hell, Merlin! You made his head ring like a bell!”

The aluminum bat was still thrumming in his hands, sending vibrations up his forearms. “Let’s get this away from you,” Arthur quipped, removing the device from his grip to set it once more beside the door.

Merlin lifted his eyes to see the baby being transferred to its mother while his own quickly stepped around the snoring figure on the floor. “Oh, Merlin! Merlin,” she cried, hugging her son fiercely. “Wha—how are you here? Oh! Who’s this?”

He was reminded of how the waitress locked onto Arthur when his mother’s attention diverted. Arthur smiled warmly, extending his hand. “My name’s Arthur, ma’am.”

She shocked him by swatting his hand away and pulling him down for a hug. “Huh—um…” he exclaimed while loosely enveloping his arms around her.

She released him and immediately pulled Merlin against her. “How are you boys here so soon?”

Merlin and Arthur exchanged glances before the former proffered, “Arthur was able to get us a ride at the last minute.”

“Being the dean’s son occasionally has its perks,” Arthur nodded.

“Dean’s son!” she guffawed, and then said seriously, “Oh—dean’s son? How often does that annoy you?” she wondered.

A slow, goofy smile curved Arthur’s mouth to the side. “Every day.”

She gave him a warm smile despite the bruise under her eye and then kissed Merlin’s cheek. “Let me get everything situated here and then I’ll find you boys a nightcap.”

“No, no, please,” the neighbor intercepted. “You’ve done enough for me. I’ll have the police take him away. One look at my face and they won’t ask any questions. And thank you Merlin, both of you,” she added toward Arthur. “You saved us.”

The journey up the hill was much slower than the first time as mother and son walked arm in arm. Once they reached the back porch, she looked between Merlin and Arthur. “Can I get you some beers? Wine? There’s a whiskey in the cabinet by the fridge, but if you don’t mind, it’s been a long evening for me already.”

“Don’t worry about anything,” Merlin assured, gently pushing her toward the door. “I’ll take care of it.”

She kissed his cheek again and gave Arthur another hug before she ascended the stairs to her room. Merlin led Arthur into the kitchen, which was not unlike the one in Arthur’s house, merely smaller. “Your mother has fine taste,” Arthur approved. “This place isn’t what I pictured a farm house to be.”

“As opposed to that monolithic cavern you call home?” Merlin quipped as he opened the refrigerator. Beside him, Arthur found the whiskey.

“‘Monolithic’ suggests a lack of character,” Arthur reckoned, spinning the lid off. “And coming from the man who refuses any drop of alcohol to grace his lips, I’ll choose to not take insult. Obviously you didn’t inherit your mother’s good taste.”

Merlin snapped open a can of ginger ale, which Arthur borrowed to pour with his whiskey. He ushered Merlin outside with the whiskey bottle and an extra can, where they began to walk between the waist high fields of irises and tulips. “Are you not cold?” Merlin asked.

He shook his head. “I’m hot-blooded. This weather doesn’t bother me. You know, Merlin, I think that was the fastest I’ve ever seen you move. I didn’t even know you could run.”

Merlin laughed mirthlessly as Arthur took a gulp from his glass. “You would be running too if you’d heard your mother getting slapped over the phone.”

The smile vanished from Arthur’s full lips. “You’re right. Although I would have killed the bastard.”

“Oh,” Merlin realized, “I should have realized this might bring up memories for you…”

Arthur peered at him and then guessed, “Morgana told you.” Merlin nodded, but to his surprise, Arthur responded, “It is more of an unreachable topic with my father. I know what happened to my mother, but I also know it was an accident. My father only knows how to deal with his grief by blaming everyone involved for letting her die…which makes me wonder…where is your father?”

Merlin gazed at the stars. “I never knew him.”

Arthur hummed deep in his chest. “Let a psychologist figure out which is worse: a parent lost or a parent never known.”

“Which neither of us is,” Merlin laughed softly.

“So it’s not our problem,” Arthur concluded, chinking his glass against Merlin’s can and draining the contents. He refilled the glass halfway and poured the last of the ginger ale into it while Merlin opened the next can. Arthur sipped his beverage as he tilted his chin upward as well. “Was your previous school on this side of the country?”

“Yes.”

Arthur peeked at him but resumed his observation of the sky. “Must have been something important to make you run across the country, putting four hours of distance between you.”

Merlin was silent for a long moment before he answered ambiguously, “It wasn’t the right place for me.”

“What brought you to our university?” Arthur continued.

“My mom knows Professor Gaius, who’s my advisor and philosophy professor now. He vouched for the school and I trust his judgment.”

The grass slushed with moisture beneath their feet. The stars and gibbous moon made tulip leaves and iris stalks appear silver and more blue than green. Arthur laughed more freely in the dark, and it was a nice, deep sound that made Merlin’s core feel warm. Arthur unconsciously offered his glass, and to Merlin’s own surprise, he took it, tentatively taking a sip. The whiskey burned but the cold and sweet ginger made it refreshing.

“Careful, you might develop a problem,” Arthur breathed, accepting the drink back.

“You’re a rotten influence,” Merlin retorted, although he liked the heady flood that invaded his mind and his senses.

Arthur guffawed for a long time, and Merlin wondered if he was officially drunk. “Merlin, I think I’m the best influence you’ve ever had, aside from that lovely woman who raised you. Look at us: we’re drinking and wandering through a flower farm. Christ, if you’d asked me just yesterday what I’d be doing on a Sunday night…”

“Is that your way of saying I’m a good influence on you?” Merlin taunted.

Arthur hummed deeply again and scoffed, “You said it, not me.”

“It’s almost like we’re friends,” Merlin jibed.

“Almost,” Arthur emphasized. His pace began to slow as they reached the end of the field and under the shadow of the forest beyond. “Speaking of…how’s that knot working out for you?”

“Huh?” Merlin asked, taking another sip of whiskey. He crushed the empty ginger ale can and slid it into Arthur’s back pocket, where the other one was.

“On the phone,” Arthur reiterated. “You said we were a tightly knit group. It sounded like you hadn’t settled in, yet. Honestly, I didn’t understand a word of it, because you slithered your way in so seamlessly that it feels like you’ve been a thorn in my side for much longer.”

He drained the glass as Merlin exclaimed. “A _thorn?_ Really? I’m the thorn in this situation? What does that make you? A briar patch?”

Arthur giggled with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, before it darkened into something else. “Does that mean you won’t leave?”

Merlin had a heart beat of time to hear the hope in his voice before his lips crashed into Merlin’s. It was a gentle crash, like a flame touching a fuse before sparks erupted. Merlin gasped against Arthur’s mouth as his hand snaked behind to cradle Merlin’s head, which encouraged the blonde to tilt his head for a deeper kiss. The whiskey bottle landed with a soft _thud_ along with the glass as Arthur abandoned them to free his arms.

The cogs in Merlin’s head were rattling as they tried to decipher the best course of action: to kiss or not to kiss. Merlin's train of thought screeched to a halt as Arthur’s arms encompassed his waist, pulling him flush against that broad, powerful and warm chest.

“Kiss me,” he breathed, sparing a second to kiss the side of his mouth. “Merlin Emrys, _kiss me…”_

And just like that, Merlin couldn’t ignore it anymore. He turned his head and thrust his weight into Arthur’s as their lips sealed together. Arthur held him tighter, urging Merlin onto his toes as his arms went around Arthur’s neck, relishing the expanse of those shoulders as his fingers itched to tangle in that gold, silky hair.

It was exactly how Merlin had imagined it would feel and more. Arthur’s scent washed over him, that clean heat that was all _Arthur._ Merlin breathed it in like oxygen as his tongue involuntarily reached for Arthur’s lip. He tasted like sweet ginger until Arthur hungrily opened his mouth, pushing Merlin’s lips apart and making his eyes loll behind his lids as his tongue slid inside. Arthur tasted of whiskey, ginger, and man, causing Merlin to want to rub himself in his scent and taste more of that essence.

Merlin moaned wantonly. He wanted more of the man he’d been trying to deny his attraction to for a pitiful two weeks. He wanted this closeness, this weight next to him, on him, demanding his touch in return. Merlin wanted more of this complicated, multifaceted man who in this moment, wanted him just as madly.

As if they both planned it, they released their kiss to switch sides, and the rejoining was as sweet as the first touch—

And then, Arthur’s phone rang loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD DAMN IT WHO'S CALLING?!


	7. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events progress to the open house art show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Football is mentioned in this chapter; I mean European football, not American soccer, just to clarify.

Arthur trod down the stairs to the kitchen with his head clutched in his hand. “Good morning,” Merlin’s mother welcomed sweetly. She sat at the kitchen table with her tea mug held to her lips while Merlin stood by the stove, preparing breakfast. He kept his back to them but he could hear Arthur taking a seat beside his mother.

“How did you sleep?” she asked quietly, recognizing the sight of a hangover.

“Like a dream,” he murmured huskily, his voice heavy with sleep. “Merlin, where’s my phone?”

“In your pocket,” Merlin answered without turning around.

The shuffling of fabric reached his ears, then a pause, then Arthur saying, “I got a call last night?”

Merlin’s hand pushed the eggs and peppers around the skillet, his eyes closed as he remembered that call too vividly.

He’d startled, gasping an exclamation while Arthur’s hold held firm. He blinked heavily, as if emerging from the depths of a dream. Each chime of the phone had been like grating metal to Merlin’s ears, reminding him of where they were, who he was, and why this could not happen.

“A-Arthur…your phone.”

Like a switch being flicked, Arthur had released him. For being drunk, he was uncannily steady on his feet, whereas Merlin felt like he was swaying precariously. He stabilized his balance by kneeling for the whiskey bottle and glass.

“Guinevere…” Arthur had greeted wearily. “What? My father…I’ll tell him when I come back. If he bothers you again, tell him I’ve taken the jet for a…diplomatic emergency.”

Merlin felt like leaning forward, just enough so his body could tip over for the ground to swallow him. Gwen. Uther. The two reasons why the taste of Arthur in his mouth was entirely wrong. It was unfortunate enough that she was cheating and Arthur was bisexual, but Arthur cheating with a man…Merlin felt ill. Gwen would be distraught before she ever felt relief, and Uther…Merlin swallowed before he retched. There was too much at stake.

“Guinevere called me…and apparently I answered. What was it about, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice brought him painfully to the present.

“Your father wondered where you had gone. You told her to tell him that you’d gone for a diplomatic emergency,” he reiterated. He leaned over to pull the toasting sweet bread out of the oven.

Arthur groaned a sigh. “I’ll fabricate that story later. How is everything at the neighbor’s?”

“Good,” Merlin’s mother replied. “Her ex-husband spent the night in jail and is likely being told over a gruel breakfast how he is no longer our landlord, nor permitted within ten miles of this property.”

The property Merlin had found himself hauling a drunken Arthur across—again—to the spare bedroom next to his. “Goodnight, Merlin…” he’d whispered when Merlin dropped him onto the bed.

The platter of eggs, bread, and cheese trembled slightly when he set them on the table. He quickly sat down, his eyes downcast as he felt his mother’s hand stroke over his forehead. Her palm was warm by the tea, her thumb lightly callused as it massaged between his brows. “You’re pale, my love. Are you sick?”

If Arthur was not there, he might have answered, _I don’t know what I am, anymore,_ but instead he replied, “I’m just dehydrated.”

She stood and filled a glass with water before reaching into the freezer for cubes of cucumber. Arthur frowned, puzzled, when the glass was set before Merlin. “Cucumbers?”

She laughed softly. “Better than ice cubes and they add a refreshing flavor.”

Merlin drained half the glass, surprised by how thirsty he actually was. When he set the glass down, he saw that Arthur was scrolling through his phone with a furrow in his brows. “It’s strange that your father called Gwen instead of you,” he pondered aloud.

“He did call me,” Arthur corrected. “I turned my phone off on the plane and the pressure in my pocket must have turned it back on. I have twenty-seven missed calls.”

Merlin swallowed dryly as the mobile vibrated with a twenty-eighth. Arthur inhaled deeply and sighed before he stood from the table, answering, “Yes, father.”

Merlin could hear the baritone through the speaker as Arthur held it away from his ear and went out the back door for some privacy. He gazed after him until Arthur descended the steps to pace in the yard, lost from view. He tried returning his gaze to his food, but his stomach clenched, adamantly refusing to be filled.

“That sounds like a rough home to live in,” his mother commented lightly. “He’s incredibly brave, especially to bring you home so quickly.”

Merlin pushed his plate away, the savory fumes sticking in his nostrils. “Who is Guinevere?” she asked.

He exhaled, “His girlfriend.”

His mother frowned dubiously. “Really? How does that work?”

Merlin mirrored her expression. “What do you mean? It’s basic—”

“Oh Merlin,” she scolded, almost playfully. “There’s nothing basic about what’s happening between you two.”

“Mom, please,” he refuted desperately. “There’s nothing between Arthur and me.”

“Mm hm,” she nodded, her eyes bright with the morning rays. “Conventional people would rephrase it as, _you love him.”_

 _“Mom,”_ he complained, leaning his head into his hand. “I’ve known him for two weeks, and besides that, it’s never going to happen.”

She did not seem fazed in the least. “Sure, the best love is like wine. It ages. But that doesn’t mean you throw away the grapes when they’ve grown.”

He sat back, pressing his shoulder blades against the spine of the chair as his arms crossed. “It’s not going to happen,” he repeated. “Besides, I’m not ready.”

His mother’s eyes softened. “I think you _are_ ready, and that’s what frightens you. Honey, Will is not—”

 _“Do. Not. Say his name,”_ Merlin warned.

She took a breath, nodding her understanding. “He is not a template on which to base other people. After knowing Arthur a few short hours, I can tell they are nothing alike. Although I am still confused about this Guinevere person.”

Merlin shook his head. “Arthur’s bisexual but only when he’s drunk. Gwen’s a wonderful person…some things not withstanding.”

He caught the curious tilt of his mother’s head and went ahead and revealed, “She’s cheating on him…with his sister…because she’s afraid she’ll actually cheat on him with the man she really loves.”

His mother sucked in her lips, doing her best to suppress her laughter. Merlin closed his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s not funny,” he uttered weakly as his own giggles bubbling in his throat.

“You’re right. It’s ludicrous,” his mother laughed openly. Merlin finally allowed himself a few laughs. “It’s quite a group you’ve found yourself in, though. Tell me more about them.”

He started with Lancel, since that was the easiest place to segue. Then he told his mother about Gwaine, feeling a smile ache on his cheeks at the memory of his rambunctious roommate. She guffawed with him when he showed her the picture he’d taken of Gwaine in his day glow attire for the club. He told her about Eli, Percy, and Leon from choir and how their rehearsals were coming. Then he told her about Morgana, the stunningly beautiful sister who was compassionate, intelligent, yet so confounded in her decisions, which brought him to Uther.

They both glanced at the door, where Arthur was still on the phone outside. “Be patient with Morgana,” his mother advised. “If what you say, along with Arthur’s reaction, is any indication, she’s acting out against their father. I doubt what she’s doing is meant to hurt Arthur, and more to shock their father.”

Merlin hadn’t thought of it in that way. “Is it not reckless, though?”

“Certainly,” his mother nodded, resuming her sips of her tea, “but children will do anything to get their parent’s notice. Being a legal adult does not change that.”

She stood from the table to put her empty mug in the sink, setting his plate in front of him in the process. With his appetite mostly returned, Merlin shoveled eggs and cheese onto a slice of bread. The crinkle of paper and plastic pulled his attention over his shoulder, where his mother was opening yesterday’s mail. He recognized the unusually large brown envelope. “Agh, Mom, you still accept those?” he asked peevishly.

“Of course I do,” she retorted. “He is your father.”

He watched her carefully extract sprigs of dried, barely together forget-me-not blossoms. Some of the soft, indigo petals detached when she placed them on the counter before withdrawing the folded letter. Merlin commented quietly, “You can’t hang yourself up on someone who isn’t even here.”

“Oh hush,” she scolded, barely listening to him as she read the letter. “He’s always here. Goodness knows he wastes enough paper sending me letters…”

“Paper isn’t flesh, Mom.”

“Your father has always been there for you when we needed him,” she reprimanded, lifting her eyes from the paper to fix her son in a maternal glare.

“Grand, he paid the hospital bills,” Merlin scoffed darkly, “but he wasn’t _there—”_

“He was, actually.”

Merlin spat food across the table. “WHAT?”

A wicked smirk lifted her lips. “Do you really think all these letters are for my sake? He’s constantly worried about you, the bloody coward. He wooed me and is willing to challenge the world but he’s frightened of standing up in front of his own son.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Arthur returned. He lifted a brow at the food bits on the tabletop before he narrowed his gaze on Merlin. “I heard a maiden cry. Where’s your dragon to protect you?”

He gently shoved Merlin’s head in passing as he aimed for the aspirin bottle on the counter, as well as the coffee maker behind it. “We’re leaving at three, Merlin,” he informed offhandedly. Merlin settled into his breakfast without really tasting it. The hours passed rather quickly since breakfast was long and Arthur had to explain what their ‘diplomatic emergency’ was.

“I met with some backers on this part of the country. Father’s campaign has nothing to do with this coast, but having national endorsement was enough to appease him. I got the call during the soiree, and you mentioned you had family here, so I let you come along. Got it?”

“Uther’s going to want to see proof of these meetings you’re lying about,” Merlin proffered.

“Let me worry about the paperwork or the lack there of,” Arthur declared. “And if for some reason I need a fake document, I have a graphic artist on call.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “Arthur! That’s illega—”

A hand pressed over Merlin’s lips while topaz irises stared into sapphire ones. “Can’t you take a joke, Merlin?”

Merlin glared. _“Hmmmlarious,”_ he growled under the palm. 

Arthur slept the whole journey back, waking in the hangar rejuvenated but grumpy as ever. He scowled at his phone as they headed for the car. “Hell. Now Morgana’s calling me twice every hour…”

“Is it bad?” Merlin worried.

The blonde landed in the driver’s seat, ditching the phone in the cup holder. “Only missed calls and texts. If it were critical there would be voice messages.”

Merlin appeared dubious in the shadow of the interior, but Arthur’s focus was on the road. Spontaneously, Merlin tested, “About last night…”

Arthur tilted his chin in acknowledgment but said nothing until Merlin’s silence irked him. “What? Does your mother want a restock on her whiskey? I’ve already arranged to have one delivered.”

“What? No, that’s not what I…” Merlin was so impressed by the gesture he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue. He rolled his eyes at no one, scolding himself for his lack of tact. “When did you black out last night?”

Arthur finally peered at him in the glow of his dash. “Considering I was already loaded with champagne from the museum and wine coolers from the plane, the whiskey pushed me over the edge with the first glass. Why? Are you tired of carrying my doorframe girth?”

 _He has no idea._ “Clearly it is becoming a habit, so I should know exactly what your limit is. For the sake of my back, you understand.”

Arthur chuckled deep in his chest. “You and your spine are too stubborn to break under my weight. Though, since we’re talking about it, tell Lancel I’ll meet him on the track at our usual time.”

He’d slowed and parked on the curb of the dorm building so smoothly that Merlin was puzzled until he realized where they were. “Sure. Uh, thanks for yesterday… Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Night,” he replied tersely before turning around the bend. Taking his time marching up the stairs, Merlin lazily unlocked his room only to find it empty. He was relaying the message to Lancel via text when something crunched beneath his ass. Standing back up, Merlin peered at the note on his bed:

_Welcome home, darling! Come to the graphic lab for some homework shenanigans. I’ll catch you up on what you missed. ~Gwaine_

Merlin took a couple minutes to wash his face and refill his water bottle before making his way across campus. He was reading the reply from Lancel when a baritone voice welcomed, “Hello, Mr. Emrys. I’m glad you returned safe and whole.”

His chin jerked up and saw Uther Pendragon standing patiently by the art building’s garden. Not one to forsake his manners, Merlin reached out to shake his hand. “Good evening, sir. I’m sorry I left the event so early last night.”

“Emergencies happen, I understand,” Uther said considerately. “My son was kind enough to bring you along, as were you for joining him.”

Merlin decided to tread carefully. He shrugged, “When Arthur said he was leaving, I let it slip that my family was in the area. I offered to call and see if I could arrange something instead of him having to dealing with a hotel, but instead he pulled me along.”

“Yes,” Uther nodded conversationally. “Your mother was a wonderful host, I’m sure.” Merlin’s heart dropped like a stone. Neither he, nor Arthur had specifically mentioned Merlin’s mother to Uther. “It is a shame that you returned home to a skirmish with the previous landlord.”

He was caught without words for a long second. “I never intended for Arthur to get caught in that. I realize it must have been a shock—”

“I think the only one shocked was the poor sod who awoke behind bars with a mountainous headache,” Uther cut off. Merlin’s only defense was keeping his face as neutral as he could make it. Uther played right through it. “I admire a man who is willing to keep up a charade of my son’s, but your lies can stop now. Do you really think I would let my son fly across the country without eyes on him? He is my only son.”

 _You should spare some eyes for your only daughter._ “Why do you wish to speak with me, sir?”

“I underestimated you,” he replied, taking a casual step forward. “It is not just anyone who can get along with both of my children. They can barely handle each other, most days. I certainly never expected a skinny artist like you to take down a man thrice your size with one hit.”

_Wait a minute. Is this praise?_

“There is a quiet confidence in you that I can respect,” he continued. “My gem, Morgana, can be…driven, to say the least. And Arthur’s sole flaw is his willingness to jump headfirst into any issue, no matter how treacherous.”

“There’s nothing wrong with compassion,” Merlin amended. “Call it a flaw, but it is what makes Arthur a leader. People follow compassion.”

“Hmph,” Uther chuckled. “He gets it from his mother. He was always tender hearted, especially as a child. Always open to everyone…I would ask who he married on the playground that day and he would say Johnny instead of Janie…I wonder what your thoughts on that are?”

Merlin’s thoughts reeled into hyper drive. Had the eyes on Arthur seen the kiss last night? Did they just keep track of Arthur’s location and the crime activity in the area or was a spy constantly on Arthur’s heels? What would happen if Uther _did_ know about it? Is this his way of telling Merlin to stay away?

But through it all, a voice long since stamped down in his memory rose to the surface: _Just lie about it! Why can’t you just lie? It’s sick, all right? Nobody wants to know that! For fuck’s sake, Merlin, it's disgusting. Just lie._

“Considering it was a game children played in primary school,” he said measuredly, “I don’t have any thoughts about it.”

Uther observed him tranquilly. After a moment, he nodded. “I am a busy man, but I like to stay integrated in my children’s lives regardless. Arthur’s been pushing against me of late, which is usually Morgana’s habit. However, I've noticed even Guinevere seems out of sorts whenever she comes by the house. What is your take on her?”

“Gwen is a wonderful person,” Merlin replied mechanically. “She’s in charge of planning the autumn ball, so she is likely stressed about it.”

“I see…” Uther murmured. “Arthur never tells me anything. That is largely my fault. I rushed him into adulthood and I forget to remind him to act his age, to be a university student sometimes.”

Those dark grey eyes wandered over Merlin once before he finished, “He needs loyal companions like you, Merlin. Stay by him. Now, I believe I’ve taken enough of your time. I’m sure you’re here to work, not converse with a cynical old man.”

“It’s not a problem, sir,” Merlin responded. “Have a good night.”

Uther left without another word and Merlin slid into the art building to find not only Gwaine at the computers, but also Gwen. Gwaine had two lollypops in his mouth, so his greeting was garbled. Gwen smiled and rose to kiss Merlin’s cheek.

“Are you all right?” she asked when she retracted and examined his countenance.

“I’m just tired. It’s been a long day,” he sighed.

She rubbed his shoulder, clearly thinking on something. “Would you like to come with me to yoga in the mornings? It’s early—seven o’clock—but it’s a relaxing start.”

He gazed into her brown eyes, warm and bright like whiskey… “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to.”

The following morning in chemistry, Merlin’s limbs felt wobbly and heated as Morgana began, “So I hear you’re doing yoga, now?”

“Sure,” he answered indifferently as they waited for Arthur to gather the microscope and slides.

Morgana giggled. “I didn’t think it was really your thing. How was it?”

He shrugged. “I’m not unfamiliar to it, but it has been over a year since I practiced. I am in pain, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

She laughed consolingly. “Of course not. Although if you’re sore already you should talk to Lancel.”

Arthur overheard the wrong words as he returned to their end of the counter. “What about pain and Lancel? Morgana, don’t fill Merlin’s head with your fetishes.”

Merlin rolled his eyes the same time Morgana cornered, “We’re talking about yoga, you twat. Merlin and Gwen are morning buddies, now.”

Arthur rounded on Merlin to pin him in an unnerving stare. Merlin felt like he was being x-rayed before Arthur burst out laughing. “You and yoga? Those pasty noodles you call limbs doing the…dancing crane or frustrated alien or whatever the hell the poses are?”

Merlin lifted a sleek, dark brow. “Weren’t you the one saying I needed to get in shape before my internship?”

“Indeed, why don’t you join them for yoga practice, Arthur?” Morgana seconded.

Her brother huffed a breath. “Football practice started last week and I have fencing in the evenings, Morgana. You know this.”

Merlin suppressed his grimace. He admired the devotion to two sports, but the idea of waking early for pain and prolonging sleep for the same reason was beyond him. At least with yoga the only pain was in the after effects, and that would stop the longer he practiced it.

Naturally, the moment Gwaine opened an eye to see what Merlin was doing up so early the following morning, he leapt out of bed to join. He grabbed his neon headband, the shortest shorts he owned, and declared himself presentable. Initially Merlin was pleasantly amused that Gwaine put in the effort of getting out of bed so early, but then he became genuinely shocked by how Gwaine stuck to it. He even woke Merlin a couple times before his alarm gave him a ruder awakening. They came to a regular schedule: slow flow yoga in the mornings and lunch in the café. Some nights Morgana enticed Merlin with evening power yoga, so by the time the open house arrived, he’d already gained five pounds between muscle and steady eating.

As he dressed in his costume tux for the performance, Merlin took a few moments to examine the change occurring in his body. His core was sofly defined but he could still clearly make out his ribs and hipbones. His elbows did not jut out as awkwardly as they once did; his legs were slim with muscle, not bone. Five pounds was not much, but on his emaciated frame it made all the difference.

 _Knock. Knock._ “You ready in there?” Percy’s warm voice asked through the door.

“Almost,” he confirmed, hastily buttoning his shirt. Percy walked with his arm around Merlin; he’d since learned that Percy was a touchy person who was exceedingly fond of his muscular arms, enough to walk without his jacket, but Merlin did not mind. The evenings were turning a chilly head and the large weight alongside him comforted Merlin more than Percy knew.

Leon met them in the art building’s wide foyer in which elaborate dioramas hung and other works from former students stood sentinel to welcome guests and current students alike. While Percy shrugged into his jacket, Leon fixed his bowtie and Eli ran a lint roller over Merlin’s tuxedo.

“Break legs, guys,” Gwen welcomed, kissing Merlin’s cheek before Percy squished her in a hug.

“You’ll have to excuse my brainless sibling’s absence,” Morgana said as she hugged Merlin and adjusted the damage caused to his bowtie. “He’s busy pursuing what he insists is a ‘gentleman’s sport.’ He would rather have his teeth pulled than admit how I beat him in last year’s championship.”

Merlin laughed with the others but unbeknownst to them he was glad Arthur was not there. Other than lunch at the coffee shop and chemistry, they hardly spent the last two weeks together, but this worked in favor of Merlin’s nerves. Between morning yoga with Gwen and evening yoga with Morgana, _that_ issue was resolved for the time being, but he felt like his nerves were frayed around Arthur, and only time would mend them.

“Oh! That’s our cue!” Leon announced, leading the way to the backstage corridor to the auditorium. He, Percy, Eli, and Merlin assumed their positions on the tiers constructed on the stage with their fellow choir members. Opening his black folder, Merlin kept his eyes poised between the choir mistress and the notes on the page.

As the last note of their final song resonated throughout the room, the mistress made eye contact with every member of the a cappella group and gave a silent wink of good luck.

The choir retreated backstage while the a cappella members dashed for the art gallery. Behind them, Merlin could hear the choir director redirecting everyone to the gallery for refreshments. The wide halls were soon filled with hungry students and curious patrons and alumni. Percy and Leon, being the tallest members of the group, stood on opposite sides of the room, giving slight nods and thumbs up when they saw the other members in the right spot. Merlin smiled kindly to passersby, holding his position and waiting for their cue.

“All right, I’m here. Are these ‘refreshments’ worth the trouble queuing for?”

Merlin’s head swiveled to find a disgruntled Arthur mussing his hair with a navy blazer over his black shirt and his boots which he hadn’t even finished lacing.

“Not now, Arthur,” Merlin grumbled, redirecting his focus to Percy, who was nearest to him.

“What do mean, ‘not now’?” Arthur scowled. “The sausage rolls with be gone by—”

Merlin and Percy’s eyes met, and together they raised their hands, snapping their fingers. It took a long moment for their slow rhythm to gather the attention of the gallery’s inhabitants. When the guests realized that there were seven snappers amongst them, they began to rotate, trying to find a place where they weren’t in the way. When the gallery finally regained silence, Elyan began to whistle a slow, breathy melody.

Merlin, along with the others, hummed low in their throats. His lips tickled fiercely but he kept his visage calm as some of them deviated in alternate pitches, building the song. Leon sang first:

_“Went home, not ever seen, ‘cause all of my dreams are where my old friends lie…”_

One of the choir leaders sang next: _“I wish I could see, which land I’ll soon be…but my cause is lost now…”_

Percy’s smooth tenor sang, _“Saw all of the gates lock in my face…I cannot see…”_

Suddenly they each sang, creating an echoing, ghostly effect that caused their audience to react with gasps and excited giggles.

_“Fought all of my saints…lifting my veins for my brethren’s thirst…but all ghosts rise when the sun’s down.”_

The crowd split, identifying the space in which the a cappella singers created a loose circle. Merlin and a couple others stepped forward around Elyan, humming deeply a percussion rhythm while he whistled the same, breathy tune. Several people in the gallery had taken up the snapped beat on their fingers.

Merlin lifted his voice and let it drop, keeping the phantom effect to the lyrics and slowly making his voice known. And then, the crescendo broke, and Eli ceased whistling to join the others in creating a wispy echo behind Merlin:

_“With nothing said and done, I’ll be slinging! Nothing then but to go down down down…I’ve got this force in my soul that keeps screaming! Aaaaooohhh… the sun’s down, now I’ll rise.”_

Elyan picked up the whistle and together he and Merlin led the song to its finish. The dim lighting of the gallery sparkled in his eyes as he grinned, the ovation booming. Something slammed into his body and it took Merlin a confused second to realize Gwaine was lifting him in a bear hug over his shoulder.

“Gwaine,” he coughed, “I can’t breathe—Gwaine!”

His glasses slipped off his nose, but the last thing he saw was a golden tanned hand ready beneath them. He was placed on his feet and the next thing Merlin knew, Arthur was before him, sliding the spectacles over his ears. Those powerful fingers were uncharacteristically gentle as they lingered on Merlin’s ears, pushing his hair behind them and lethargically stroking over the pinnae to his lobes.

“Who knew you had something like that in here…” The pads of his fingers grazed over Merlin’s throat, sending cold tingles that created unnaturally hot waves through his body.

Then his touch was gone, those fingers adjusting his bowtie. “I thought you said you didn’t have a tux?”

Merlin swallowed, reminding himself to breathe. “It’s a costume. I can tear this thing off for a quick wardrobe change behind or on stage.”

Morgana distracted Arthur, then, while Gwaine grabbed Merlin’s waist, pivoting the both of them in the direction of the gallery’s exit. “Mayday! Mayday!” he hissed.

Merlin didn’t understand why he was being lifted off the floor again until he saw it: Lancel and Gwen, sneaking out of the art show hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The a cappella song is definitely based on Adam Lambert's [Ghost Town](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toDqvHvTN7c). No shame. You're welcome to place your own song for the lyrics, though.
> 
> Also, YAY Supreme Court for ruling same-sex marriage a Constitutional right! About damn time, and if you disagree, get off my page.


	8. Trick or Treat

“What the fuck is he doing?” Merlin exclaimed.

“I know he’s brawn, but I thought he had enough brains to read ‘Open House,’ not ‘Open Heart,’” Gwaine muttered. He and Merlin peeked behind them to see if Arthur was still indisposed with Morgana, and then promptly bolted out of the room.

Merlin blinked at the sudden brightness of the other gallery halls, but they did not have to run far. Down one corridor and around the corner to the foyer, Gwaine and Merlin grabbed each other to stop their momentum and hide behind a massive, abstract sculpture that resembled a bear.

“…to talk to you,” Lancel was saying.

“Now?” Gwen murmured anxiously. “You know Arthur’s here!”

“I know _Morgana’s_ here,” Lancel shot back. “What the hell is between you two?”

“Y-You know?” Gwen stammered.

“I didn’t at first, but after seeing the way you keep looking at her and following her around, I kind of inferred,” Lancel declared. His voice was as soft spoken as it ever was but there was a gravity to it that Merlin had never heard, nigh even believed Lancel could use—he was furious. “It’s just…fuck, Gwen! Most people wait until _after_ their relationship to do stupid rebound stuff! What do you think you’re doing?”

Merlin and Gwaine ventured to peer around the statue to see Gwen match Lancel toe to toe. “Don’t you dare get jealous now! I’ve been with Arthur for almost two years, and it takes _Morgana_ to get a reaction out of you?”

“Don’t blame this on me!” he retorted. “We’ve talked about this! The first night I was back, we talked about this! You said we were done so we should stay done! You chose Arthur!”

“Well what if I chose WRONG?”

Her hands flew up to her mouth, covering her lips as if to pull back the words she’d just blurted. Gwaine and Merlin glanced at one another. “Should we interfere?” the latter mouthed.

Gwaine was in the process of shrugging and opening his mouth to answer when they heard a delicate, but distinct… _smooch._

They jerked their attention back around the colossal bear to see Lancel pulling Gwen against him, her long fingers crawling up his nape to embed themselves in his hair. The decision was on Merlin’s lips before he thought about it. “GW—”

“—EN!”

Merlin blinked, puzzled at the sudden change in his voice until his head swiveled toward Arthur and Morgana on the other end of the hall. A second later, he was striding forward, causing Gwen and Lancel to detached immediately. Merlin did not appreciate how fast Arthur could move until a gust of air billowed his hair as the blonde passed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, damage control! Damage control!” Gwaine hissed as he and Merlin leapt from behind the sculpture. Merlin might have laughed at the fact that they were sprinting while Arthur was merely _walking,_ but the rage and betrayal on Arthur’s face ruined any mirth he might have had.

He skidded to a stop right in front of Gwen the moment Arthur stood before her, and he was grateful she was calm and collected enough to catch him since his heart and lungs were trying to tear out of his chest. Gwaine stood similarly in front of Lancel, causing Arthur’s eyes to dart between them.

“Both of you get out of my way,” he growled, eyeing Gwen behind Merlin.

“No,” Merlin murmured, the same time Gwaine uttered, “Not a chance.”

“Could we take this outside, please?” Morgana said behind Arthur. “A fourth of the student body is here. Let’s not _give_ them gossip, shall we? Other wise Uther will hear of this, and he has an image to uphold.”

Merlin felt Gwen gripping the back of his tux. He wanted to warn her that if she pulled hard enough, the jacket would come off in clean pieces, but he felt as if one word might set Arthur off. Silently, he followed her tugs until they all stood outside.

“Merlin, move,” Arthur ordered darkly, his voice far too calm for the hatred in his eyes.

“No,” Merlin repeated. He swallowed dryly but did not take a single step away from Gwen.

Arthur’s eyes tore off of Gwen to focus on him, and all the seething disdain in his eyes faded back to reveal one emotion: betrayal. “You knew about this?”

Merlin nodded shakily and he heard a weak gasp from Gwen. Gwaine said soothingly, “Arthur, don’t be upset with him. We all knew about this.”

Arthur whirled around. “How long has this been going on?”

“You know Gwen and I dated before you got together,” Lancel tried to say calmly.

“Yes, I did! I _didn’t_ know you never STOPPED DATING!” Arthur bellowed, no longer able to keep his anger in check. “GWEN!”

“I’m sorry!” she cried, daring a half step out from Merlin. “I know it’s not enough, but I am! I loved you, Arthur! I did, but…but, I don’t know—I can’t control how I feel!”

“You can control your lies!” he shot back, approaching so Merlin quickly shoved her behind him once more. “You could control how far you ripped _my heart out!”_

“She never cheated with Lancel,” Gwaine intercepted carefully, and then hissed at Lancel, “Come on, mate, back me up. I’m literally your human shield, for crying out loud.”

“He’s right,” Lancel picked up the thread instantly. “The kiss was my fault, and it was just tonight. A minute more, I would have ended it—”

“A MINUTE?” Arthur shouted, looking toward Gwen for confirmation. “Oh yes, a _minute_ of kissing is all it takes for you to realize you’re in love, all it takes to forget all of your memories, the sweet and the bitter! A minute in time to know you’ll never forget each other.”

He was stepping closer with each word, causing Gwen to hold on fiercely to Merlin’s jacket despite his visible trembling. Arthur was standing at his full height, bearing down over him, closer and closer. Five pounds gained was nothing in comparison.

“Was a minute all you needed? A minute to forget me, a minute to reacquaint yourself with him? What would a kiss with me do now? Would it remind you of _anything_ we shared, or would it disgust you? Send you running for the person you truly want?”

He gripped Merlin’s bicep, ready to yank him out of the way. _“I loved you._ Were you a waste of two years—”

_SCHMAK!_

A cold drop of sweat raced down the valley of Merlin’s spine, his hand tingling painfully. The back of his throat felt bruised, his knees weak. He couldn’t tell whether seconds or minutes passed, but Arthur stood before him, his chin pushed to the side by Merlin’s slap while a glazed, stunned look shielded his eyes. Merlin felt suspended in space, waiting for time to recommence and for Arthur to come back to himself, to remember how large he was and just how easily Merlin could be swatted out of the way. He felt like he was leaning on Gwen just as much as she was on him.

Arthur slowly lifted a hand, caressing his cheek as if testing the rosy flesh where Merlin’s palm had connected. When his chin turned once more to Merlin, his features were statuesque, his mask firmly in place; the only insight to how hurt he felt was the shadow in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Merlin was sure Gwen must have been holding him up because he wasn’t sure how he was still standing, receiving the full brunt of Arthur’s pain and witnessing every drop of trust receding from him.

And the truth was, he didn’t know why he never thought to directly tell Arthur everything. Why he chose to circumnavigate the issue instead of facing it directly; why he chose to prolong Arthur’s torment in this way.

“If you love her,” he answered instead, his voice hardly above a whisper, “let her go. None of us should have done what we did, or not done what we should have. We’re not accomplishing anything the way we are now. If you love her, don’t cause her pain. Let her go.”

Arthur’s eyelids were heavy and the muscle in his jaw ticked as he fought back his anger and tears. “How am I supposed to do that?” he murmured. “She was everything.”

“No…I wasn’t,” Gwen said quietly. “And…you weren’t my everything. I tried, I really did…maybe that’s why it’s taken us too long to realize this. I can’t be everything you need me to be, Arthur, and you deserve someone who can.”

Arthur retreated a step. He was silent for a long time before a low, mirthless laugh trembled in the air. “Some friends. The next time all of you have a secret, try letting the person it’s about know. See _you_ in chemistry.”

Without a look toward Merlin, Arthur strode off into the night. The rest of them stood silently for a long moment before Lancel and Gwen nodded to each other, heading off in their separate directions.

Without his scarf, Merlin felt the night’s chill around his throat. Meanwhile, Gwaine wondered, “So when should we tell Arthur about you?” toward Morgana.

Merlin watched Morgana’s eyes meet his tranquilly. “I don’t think it’s wholly necessary. It was just the once, and it did its purpose well enough.”

“Once?” Merlin blurted skeptically.

She rolled a graceful shoulder. “I’ve always known her feelings toward Lancel, and an opportunity arrived for a clean parting. It’s a wonder how a strip of silk and few erotic words can plant a seed in someone’s head. Took you guys long enough to tell Lancel.”

“Clean parting?” Gwaine exclaimed. “You call this a ‘clean parting’?”

“I’m prettier than Arthur,” Morgana scoffed. “Something had to make Lancel jealous enough to act. Just so you know, I tried to keep him in the gallery, I did, but once he saw Merlin running out, he was gone.”

Merlin lifted his eyes just in time to witness a pointed roll of her eyes from Gwaine to Merlin, and the sudden light bulb sparking between Gwaine’s eyes. “You’re a conniving bitch, you know that?” Gwaine uttered, but the silent dialogue between the two of them more than unnerved Merlin.

“Hold on! What was that? Just now? Why did you look at me?” he demanded.

Morgana sighed theatrically. “You want me to just come out and say it don’t you? Open house, and all…”

Merlin’s eyes darted between her and Gwaine, whose hands were now in his pockets as he shrugged innocently. Morgana tossed an inky tress over her shoulder and retorted, “You could hardly capture Arthur’s full attention with Guinevere in the way.”

The force of understanding sent Merlin back a step. “What?”

“Oh, Merlin,” Morgana chided playfully. “We known you’re gay. In your defense, the sight of Arthur in his underwear has sent many a person reeling.”

He gaped at Gwaine, who crooked his mouth in a shy smile. “I had nothing to do with this whole plan, but it was hard not to notice when you ran into the wall, mate.”

Merlin sucked in air like a fish, grasping for words but finding none. Finally all he could do was turn on his heel and march back to his dorm. Gwaine quickly caught up to him. “I don’t agree with what she did, understand that, but also don’t freak out. None of us are homophobes. You’re my best friend, and if I played for the same team I’d either be in your pants or be fighting you for Arthur too.”

Merlin might have laughed on a different night, but too much had happened this evening. By the time they were moving up the stairs of their dorm building, Gwaine had caught on how Merlin was more than upset about something in particular. “Hey, what are you mad about?”

He rubbed the cold sweat from his brow as Gwaine unlocked the door. “I should have just told him. I don’t know why I never told him. He’s done plenty for me, why couldn’t I just do this one thing for him?”

“Woah, hold on,” Lancel swung his legs off the bed, immediately intervening in the conversation. “If this is about Arthur, you don’t owe him anything, Merlin. You’ve already done more for him than he knows. You _wanted_ to tell him. You wanted all of this to unravel over time to avoid him getting hurt, but you wanted him to know. That much was obvious the moment you told me. You were braver than any of us had ever been, and we’ve known much longer than you. Arthur might be blaming all of us, but you’re the bravest of us all, and Arthur doesn’t even know.”

“Things might have gone smoothly if Morgana hadn’t interfered,” Gwaine stated before he quickly filled Lancel in on Morgana’s deception.

Lancel’s light brown eyes widened. “First of all, I’m not sure who should be more pissed at her: Arthur or Gwen. What Morgana did was cruel to both of them, twisting Guinevere’s mind in order to tear Arthur from her. Secondly, that’s a hard argument, whether she’s better looking than Arthur. The genes in that family are uncanny.”

“Also,” Gwaine turned back to Merlin, “did you notice how he singled you out? He was the most hurt by _you_ not telling him, which means he will be more likely to forgive you first.”

Merlin frowned. “I fail to see your logic.”

A warm smile teased Lancel’s mouth. “He jumped pretty quick when your mom was in trouble. Arthur’s a surprisingly simple person: he picks on you the most because he likes you the most. It’s like he’s stuck in primary school.”

Gwaine clapped a hand on Merlin’s back, lurching him forward. “Give him time to cool his head, then you can sweep him off his feet…or vice versa. You’re easier to lift.”

Merlin took a long shower before crawling into bed. He was so eager to get to yoga and have the hour to forget everything but when he and Gwaine strolled into the room, it was the absence of Gwen’s mat which spurred them into action.

Merlin leaned against the wall while Gwaine picked her lock, counting down the minutes until they were late. The knob turned and Gwaine burst in. “Wakey wakey! You paid for a yoga membership, now you have to earn it. I hope you’re not nude under there, because we have three minutes to not be late!”

Gwen yelped indignantly as Gwaine hooked his arms under her pits while Merlin grabbed her feet. “Guys! GUYS! What do you think you’re doing?”

“If you have time to sulk, you have time to yoga. Let’s go,” Merlin answered, setting her feet down in order to grab her yoga mat.

Sprinting into the practice room, Merlin haphazardly threw her mat down while Gwaine let her slide off his back, still dressed in her pajama pants and lacy racerback top. The yoga instructor looked nearly as flustered as Gwen did, but the majority of the class got a laugh out of it. Thus, one activity returned to normal.

Chemistry wasn’t the same, though. Between Merlin’s disdain for Morgana and Arthur’s animosity toward Merlin, their labs progressed in silence. Merlin was oddly reminded of their first few classes, when Arthur refused to make eye contact or be caught looking in Merlin’s direction. Even Dr. Agravaine noticed the change.

“Is everything in order over here?” he wondered, eyeing the three of them.

“Yes, sir,” they uttered in unison, which only seemed to vex the professor more.

One day, though, when Arthur was absent—skipping again—Morgana said plainly to Merlin: “You should come back to power yoga.”

“Why?” he asked warily.

“Because now that Arthur’s been kicked off the fencing league, it’s the only outlet he has in the evenings.”

She had Merlin’s full attention. “He was kicked off the fencing team? Why?”

Morgana shrugged, genuinely as surprised as he was. “I talked to the coach, but the man seemed to have more questions for me than I, him. He said Arthur was being too aggressive, he kept losing points because he wasn’t paying attention to the most basic rules. Apparently too many foils snapped and they couldn’t risk their budget by keeping Arthur and his temper around.”

“And being near a man who keeps breaking metal is exactly where I want to be,” Merlin sassed sardonically. “Do you really think having me and Arthur in the same room will save anything?”

“Yes, actually. I do,” she confirmed strongly. “You don’t have to say anything to him, just come tonight. If for nothing else, then to get a laugh. Arthur’s the least flexible person on the planet.”

“I don’t want to be a part of your schemes anymore,” he declined, returning his gaze to the lab report.

“This is more for Arthur’s sake than yours,” she consoled. “Come on, I finally convinced him to try yoga, and the Halloween jubilee is next weekend. Some of this tension needs to diffuse before then, otherwise I don’t know what he might do. Lancel and Gwen are each other’s dates.”

Merlin’s gaze lifted, locking with hers. They both knew that if Arthur saw Gwen with Lancel that it would be like twisting the knife already in his gut. “Fine,” Merlin grumbled. “But Gwaine’s coming!”

Morgana paused, a frown in her mouth. “He talks an awful lot, though, doesn’t he?”

Nevertheless, Merlin hauled Gwaine away from the tavern to the yoga room, where he announced to everyone how the room was “hot as Satan’s balls." Merlin couldn’t tell if Arthur was more aggravated by Merlin’s presence or Gwaine’s chattering, but he removed his glasses, setting them on the corner of his mat, before the practice began. He may not have been able to see more than impressions of Gwaine and Morgana’s silhouettes on either side of him, but paired with the instructor’s words, they guided him well enough through the sweaty hour.

Every so often in the days that passed, Gwaine or Morgana would whisper an adjustment to him, or his fingers would feel for the edges of his mat to gauge his placement. On the Friday before Halloween, when his hand reached for his glasses on the corner, they weren’t there. A bolt of panic sliced through his torso—

“You can’t see a thing, can you?” Arthur’s voice purred through the blind veil. He sounded eerily close. Merlin inhaled for calm, the zen he’d fought for the whole last hour to achieve.

“Do you have my glasses?”

“Give me a second,” Arthur scolded. “They’re filthy.”

A moment later, Merlin realized that he was squatting right next to him. Arthur could have been waving a hand in front of his face, but he was too blind to see it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, rising from his sitting position to roll up the mat. As he bent double, he felt his spectacles threatening to slide off with his sweat, but it was Arthur’s fingertips on the base of his nape that shocked him more.

“And these? What are these scars from?” he wondered, feeling the pale, crescent shaped markings that were usually hidden behind his jacket and scarves.

Merlin rapidly tucked his rolled mat under his arm and dismissed, “Who knows? I was reckless when I was younger.”

Puzzled, Arthur watched him escape out the door. “Why do I get the feeling he just lied to me?” he said for Gwaine and Morgana’s ears.

“I never noticed those scars until you pointed them out,” his sister commented curiously.

“The ones on his back?” Gwaine gestured to the area, but the wave of his hand suggested more of his back than just his nape. “He’s got a lot of weird scars like that. Especially here,” he gestured to his temple and hairline. “His hair covers it up but he looks like he got knocked around by a wave in a bed of oysters.”

Arthur frowned. “You never thought to ask where they’d come from?”

Gwaine shrugged. “If you haven’t noticed, Merlin’s really touchy about his past. It’s none of my business, so if he wants me to know, he will tell me when he’s ready.”

Morgana was next out of the room, zipping up her jacket against the cold as she caught up with Merlin. “Hey! That was real progress, wasn’t it? He touched you!”

Merlin was winding his linen scarf around his neck as he cast her a glare. “Yes, touching my neck while I’m hunched over is so endearing, I forgot to feel the romance in it.”

That took her aback. “He didn’t mean it as a dominating gesture. He was just curious about your scars.”

Merlin startled when her hand pushed his hair back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re due for a haircut. Maybe Gwen could give you one in the morning before the jubilee.”

She discretely passed behind him to his other side, lifting his hair again. “Morgana, stop with my hair.”

He heard her sharp intake of air once she saw the jagged, lightning shaped ripples of white scar tissue along his temple, delving beneath his hair. Her gaze returned to his eyes when he pushed her hand away. “Are you embarrassed? Is that why you keep your hair long?”

“I’m not ashamed,” he defended. “I just don’t like the questions. If people see it, they’ll talk about it.”

“And that would be bad?” she wondered.

He sighed. “Just put a lid on your curiosity, all right? I’ll get a haircut, but you need to keep eyes on Arthur tomorrow. I’d actually like to make a treat out of this jubilee instead of a bag of tricks.”

“Fine, fine,” Morgana agreed as she found her phone in her bag. “I’ll just text Gwen about the cut, then, shall I?”

Turns out, contrary to the belief that Gwen would be working tirelessly on finalizing the arrangements for the ball, she appeared bright and early at Merlin’s dorm, scissors and towel in hand. Merlin stood there dumbly before he raised his hand defensively. “Whatever Morgana told you, don’t do it. I only want a little bit off.”

Gwen snorted a giggle. “All she told me was that you wanted a haircut. I’ll remove as little or as much as you want. Then I’m going to see how long Gwaine will stay asleep so I can tame that unruly mass he calls style.”

Merlin let her pin the towel around his neck and then felt her fingers go to work. Every now and then she turned him so he witnessed the progress in the bathroom mirror, but it was a relatively short affair. She removed the towel, scrubbed it over his hair to dry it somewhat, and then stalked toward Gwaine.

Her hands were outstretched when he mumbled, “I know you can’t get enough of me, darling. Simply ask and you shall receive.”

Lancel awoke by the time she was finishing with Gwaine, and before long all three men were trimmed and proper. Gwen asked Merlin to help her finish the touch ups on her gown before the hour of the ball struck, during which time she interrogated him about Arthur.

“How is he? It’s been a month…I keep checking my phone for texts but he hasn’t sent or said a word to me.”

Merlin frowned. “What exactly are you hoping for?”

She lifted a sleek brow over her glare. “Not him begging to get back together with me, certainly. I’m not going to waste my time feeling guilty about being happy with Lancel, either. As bad as it sounds, this past month has been bliss…well, after you and Gwaine dragged me out of bed for yoga.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin responded shamelessly.

She giggled. “Yeah, thanks. I’m just concerned. Arthur was my friend before he was ever my boyfriend. I just want to know if he’s taking care of himself.”

Merlin could only shrug. “He got kicked off the fencing team a while back. He’s been doing power yoga ever since. As far as I know, he’s all right. Morgana thinks he’s mellowed out in the past week.”

Gwen visibly breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s something. Now help me into this thing.”

Merlin laced her up and she twirled in her soft pink skirt, split over a thicker, wheat colored fabric quilted against the winter temperature. The bodice gave way for white, tapering sleeves. Merlin smiled, she’d done a fine job. “Peasant girl?”

“It’s a ball!” Gwen defended with a sly smirk.

Merlin finished buckling the leather straps of the boots that stood around his shins the same time Morgana appeared, immaculate in a sleek, emerald gown of satin and chiffon. It made her eyes brighter and greener than ever.

“Did you do this?” she wondered, fingering the silver embroidery around the hem of Merlin’s sapphire tunic.

He tied a brown leather belt around his waist as he nodded. “It’s a ball.”

Gwen appreciated his remark and held out his red arabesque scarf. He tied it so it draped across his shoulders and down the front of his chest, and then they declared themselves ready.

Walking into the ballroom was like going back in time. Tapestries and great curtains hung on the walls, while a long table stretched across the far side of the room, covered in food and goblets. Behind it were tall wooden chairs where a royal court would sit once a voting ballot was tallied. The air smelled of spiced meats, wine, and honeyed treats. On the opposite end of the ballroom was a glistening suit of armor, beside which its handler helped people tried on bits of armor and made sure nothing was stolen.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Gwen,” Merlin congratulated while brushing his fingers through his hair, adjusting it over his forehead and temple.

“A dance, milady?” Lancel requested, sweeping her away.

Morgana stepped closer to Merlin, asking if Gwaine was here yet. Merlin told her he was taking a while getting into his stockings for his jester costume, but he’d be there soon. Then, she asked about Arthur. Merlin frowned. “No, I have not seen him yet, and I’m not _looking_ for him. It’s his choice whether he comes or not.”

Morgana nudged his shoulder, forcing him to follow her line of sight. “Considering our father is here, you can expect Arthur will be.”

Merlin’s frown deepened at the sight of Uther chatting amicably with other faculty members. “Why is he here?”

“He’s one of the deans. It is his right to attend school functions. Not to mention Arthur will surely be chosen as king of the jubilee.”

Merlin was struck by an epiphany. “You don’t think…Gwen would be chosen as queen, do you?”

Morgana’s expression blanked. “That would awkward…then again, to be frank, it’s either her or me, so which would be worse? Although I suppose implied incest might garner a few laughs.”

“You have a strange sense of humor,” Merlin commented dryly.

“Don’t turn around,” she ordered suddenly.

“What? Why?”

“Arthur’s here.”

“So?”

She hesitated. “He’s got a date.”

“Are they fucking in the corner? I don’t understand your concern,” he defended, but as soon as he turned around, he knew why she’d sounded worried. Arthur wasn’t screwing anyone in public, but he obviously just had. He and his sandy blond date were giggling and stumbling into the ballroom. Both of their cheeks were rosy and Arthur barely managed to tie the laces of his breeches before he let his crimson tunic drop and curled his arm around her blue waist. “Wow…they’re…not even subtle about it, are they?” he murmured hollowly.

Morgana caressed between his shoulder blades. “It’s just rebound sex. She doesn’t mean anything to him.”

In his heart he knew she was right, but Merlin suddenly understood what had truly undone Lancel when he had learned about Gwen and Morgana: he’d wanted her to come running to him, even if it was for a rebound. Merlin felt a flare of anger toward Arthur for not choosing him for his attentions, someone who always had his best interests at heart, someone who wasn’t some dark blond decoration.

Merlin realized he was staring when Arthur’s eyes locked on him. Even more so, the affronted furrow of Arthur’s brows made him realize that he was glaring daggers across the room. Merlin took Morgana’s arm in his and drew her toward the banquet, murmuring, “What was the food like in eleven-twenty-nine?”

He found a platter of skewered, grilled vegetables beside a bowl of candy corn, and bit a piece of squash angrily. Throughout the ballroom, he recognized people from his classes, from around campus, but he was still surprised when he saw Val, Cedric, and Myror trying on bits of armor. Val filled the armor best, while Cedric’s black-clad, lanky frame could only handle the greaves and gauntlets. Myror was wearing too much flashy gold jewelry to bother trying anything on.

Merlin filled a goblet with ice water and went into the hall to check his phone for Gwaine’s progress: _One leg in! How the bloody hell do women do this?_

“Huh…huh…huhmm…”

Merlin’s eyelashes swooped up, suspiciously peering around. He knew that sound. Everyone over the age of thirteen knew that sound, or could at least infer it. The rustle of clothing drew Merlin’s attention around the corner, where Arthur’s face was buried in the neck of his date and half his ass was hanging out of his trousers as he thrust her against a wall.

Merlin rounded out of sight. He didn’t even care about the sight of Arthur’s bare ass because he recognized the woman. Sandy hair, murky brown eyes, freckles dusted along her nose and neck…the waitress from the breakfast restaurant. Merlin’s fist clenched around the stem of his goblet, furious. He hadn’t considered it a date at the time, but now he was insulted that Arthur had kept the woman’s number when he was there with Merlin, when he was still dating Gwen…

Merlin’s eyes fell to the surface of the water in his goblet, the bits of ice chinking delicately under the waitress’s suppressed moans. Peeking around the corner, her eyes were closed as she neared her orgasm, and Arthur’s face was too embedded in her neck to see anything.

He twisted the goblet so it flew like an American football, landing squarely against the back of Arthur’s head. Merlin didn’t stick around to see if the cold water slid down Arthur’s neck and under his clothes—but he heard it.

Arthur fiddling with his pants gave Merlin a few precious seconds to sprint back to the ballroom, where he scooped Morgana in to his arms so he was inconspicuously dancing when Arthur charged into the room. Morgana peeked at her brother, and then Merlin. 

“You wondered if his temper was simmering down? Well it is, because he’s getting laid every fifteen minutes.”

“And you interrupted, I presume?” she wondered with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Trick or treat,” Merlin hummed. Morgana snickered, and he joined her when he saw Uther notice his son and draw him into the fold of his conversation.

He danced with Morgana for two songs, enjoying how coordinated she was. A slower tune gave him the time to look around, and despite his previous declaration to Morgana, his eyes automatically sought Arthur. His date was nowhere to be found and the blonde was doing a fine job playing the loyal, pretentious son for his father’s company. He even laughed with the others at some joke of Uther’s, focused in his direction so he did not notice the handful of small white tablets Cedric dropped into his goblet.

“Oh my god,” Merlin breathed.

“What?” Morgana exclaimed. “What is it?”

But Merlin was already striding across the room, watching Arthur nonchalantly raising the goblet to his lips—

“Merlin! What do you think—” he demanded when Merlin intercepted his beverage.

“Mr. Emrys,” Uther greeted. “We were just about to toast to Hallows Eve. Won’t you join us?”

“O-Oh, I would but I need a drink,” Merlin blurted. 

“But you’ve taken Arthur’s,” one of the other deans laughed. “Let’s get him a new one and toast—”

“Or I can just take _my_ drink _back,”_ Arthur growled pointedly at Merlin, who pulled against him.

“You can’t have this one! No, no it’s rosé, you hate rosé,” Merlin fired off. “Something much whiter would suit your taste…like water!”

“Merlin, it’s clearly red,” Arthur frowned like Merlin was stupid.

“No matter. No matter,” Uther finished, grabbing a fresh goblet for his son. “To Hallows Eve and this wonderful jubilee our students have put together for us.”

“Hallows Eve and the students,” the others echoed, lifting their goblets.

Merlin’s heart thundered in his chest, the poisoned beverage in his hand. The goblet was so full that it would be obvious if he didn’t take a drink—

“Mr. Emrys, it is bad luck if one of the party does not drink the toast,” Uther scolded.

_Bad luck if I do._

Eyes were on him, waiting. Merlin said, “You’re absolutely right…but I like to toast to as much as I can. You never know when the night might end.”

He lifted the goblet, meeting Arthur’s curious and puzzled expression before he said, “To the Pendragons, who take such care of this school. To Guinevere, who made this entire evening possible, and…to the treats disguised as tricks. Happy Halloween.”

“Happy Halloween!” the others chimed.

He drank.

The rest of the group was tipping the bottoms of their goblets up, so Merlin’s eyes watered as he drained his bronze chalice. He shuddered as the last of the merlot slithered down his throat, already bitter and made even more so by the tasteless secrets it contained.

“Please excuse me,” Merlin dismissed, but no sooner had he taken a step then he was grabbed by the arm and held in place. They wanted to know who he was, how he knew Arthur, and Uther, how Gwen had done such a marvelous job with the decorating, the choice in catering, costumes. Who did he think would be voted to the royal court? Did he make his costume himself?

“I’m sorry, I really must go.” Merlin dashed before they could keep him any longer. Parts of his body already felt tingly and numb: the back of his throat, his fingertips…

He stumbled into a bathroom stall and dug his fingers in his throat until red and bits gushed out. He dry heaved twice more but it was too late. Whatever Cedric had found, it was meant to work immediately.

His head swimming, Merlin tried to use his phone, but the numbers were blurring despite his glasses, and he was beginning to panic as tears slid free of his eyes…

“Merlin? Merlin!”

Hands were shaking him, forcing him to look up into Lancel’s stunned face. Merlin saw his fingers grasp at Lancel’s costume, despite barely being able to feel it. “I need…I need to go to a hospital.”

Lancel’s arms encompassed him and he half carried Merlin down the hall, down the stairs, and down another hall, but Merlin’s knees gave out and Lancel hauled him up in his arms the same moment Gwaine was opening the door.

“I’ve arrived!” he sang in his scarlet leggings and green jerkin until his smile vanished. “Merlin? What’s happened to him?”

“Hold the door! He needs a hospital!” Lancel countered. Gwaine jumped to action and ran beside Lancel, handling the keys to his van.

“Merlin! Can you hear me? What happened?” he cried.

Merlin knew he was held close to Lancel’s chest but his head felt like it was upside-down. “Cedric…Arthur’s drink…”

“Not again,” Lancel sighed. “Gwaine, text Gwen, Morgana, _somebody,_ and tell them to look after that useless dolt.”

“No need…” Gwaine muttered. “The dolt is charging this way in a blaze of blond glory.”

Merlin’s hanging arm curled protectively to his chest, clinging limply to Lancel as more tears slipped loose, unable to restrain them. In the fog consuming his mind, he heard Gwaine shout, “Arthur stop! We don’t have time for this!”

“What’s happened to him? What’s wrong with Merlin?”

The world keeled over, which must have meant Lancel had lain him down in the van. “You can’t keep watch over your drinks, so Merlin drank it!” he argued. “Probably because he didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Uther. Gwaine, drive! I’ll stay back here with him—what do you think you’re doing?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? Get in already! Stop wasting my time!”

The sound of a door slamming reverberated around the inside of Merlin’s skull. His body was familiarly numb as the world became no longer distinguishable with or without his glasses. It was no longer a mirage of color, but entirely black.


	9. The Rest is History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long night in the hospital.

Arthur paced in the sterile, overly bright corridor of the hospital, his hands carding repeatedly through his mess of blond hair. After carrying Merlin into the hospital, the doctors had whisked him away, doing procedures that registered to Arthur as flushing his stomach with charcoal, pumping him full of fluids, and simply, agonizingly, waiting.

He paced in front of a row of seats, on which Gwaine and Lancel sat; the former’s knees bounced rapidly while the latter’s hands were clenched tightly together.

The patter of feet drew their attention to the other end of the hall, where Merlin’s mother was trotting, fresh off the plane. “Where is he? Is he all right? What happened?”

“That’s what I would like to know,” Arthur grumbled.

Lancel started first, “We were at the Halloween ball, and Merlin noticed someone dropping pills in Arthur’s drink. Thing is, he was in a circle of people that included his father, who is running for office. Appearances needed to be met, and when faced with Uther’s temper or a goblet of laced wine…Merlin drank.”

“There were a thousand different ways he could have warned me!” Arthur exploded. “Drinking the stuff was the most ludicrous course of action he could have taken!”

Gwaine sat a bit straighter. “I have a feeling this conversation is about to go through dangerous territory, so I will remind you to keep your voice and your fists down. Or else hospital security will throw you out.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur interrogated, although his voice obediently muffled.

“Arthur,” Lancel sighed, “we’ve known you for years. Give us some credit. We know you better than you think we do, and Merlin’s known you for what? Two months? Yet he drank that wine for you. He knew why your wine was drugged, and that was to embarrass you in front of Uther, to ruin both yours and Uther’s reputations. I’m not saying Merlin made the best decision, but he did the best he could under the stress imposed on him. Same with Guinevere. He wanted to tell you. He really did, but…your temper is hard to predict sometimes. He tried to make this a gradual parting…but then it blew up in our faces.”

Arthur stood patiently with his arms crossed, listening intently. “Let’s be clear. What infuriates me about Guinevere, is how she leaned her heart towards someone else. Frankly, I might have been less hurt if she just shared her body with you. I’d still be disgusted, but I wouldn’t feel inside out like this. But learning that her heart and mind were never shared honestly with me…how am I supposed to deal with that betrayal?”

Gwaine pointed out, “Right, never mind how _Lancel_ was the one who kissed Gwen. Sorry, mate, but that’s all on you,” he added off handedly to his roommate. “I want to put a hashtag-sexism on this conversation, but we’re forgetting how _Morgana_ is the one who pushed Guinevere to cheat in the first place—oh, by the way, Morgana went down on Gwen.”

Arthur’s eyes bulged, his mouth opening and closing but unable to grasp words.

Gwaine continued, “It was one time, after two years of going steady with you, yet hardly any one is blaming Morgana, here. Gwen’s only human, folks, same as all of us. And really, none of us are free from blame. We all should have stepped in and told you, Arthur, but we didn’t. We loved you too much to hurt you, or maybe we didn’t love you enough and that’s what kept our mouths shut, I don’t know. The point is, we can only move forward and clean up this fucking mess, starting with Merlin, who was brave and stupid enough to volunteer for clean up in the first place.”

He leaned back in his chair, finished with his speech. Arthur was still lost for words; it was too much to process. Ultimately, he stood by with Merlin’s mother, waiting for someone in scrubs or a white robe to tell them any news.

After two cups of bad coffee later, someone finally arrived. “Are you Mrs. Emrys?”

“Yes!” she breathed, standing attentive.

“He is stable, and resting,” the nurse assured. “The procedure typically dehydrates patients, so he should be waking soon for fluids. You’re welcome to sit with him, and the doctor said he would like a few words.”

“I’m sure he would,” she answered knowingly, striding forward and around the corner for the room Merlin had been placed in.

Arthur leaned against the cinderblock wall, waiting once more. Out of nowhere, he uttered, “Morgana? You’re not joking?”

Gwaine and Lancel peered up at him. “Do you think we could make this shit up?” the former answered.

Arthur went back to puzzling inside his head. The furrow in his brow was threatening to become permanent by the time Merlin’s mother peeked around the corner. “He’s awake. They only want one person at a time to see him, though. Work it out amongst yourselves.”

Arthur was rather surprised when Lancel and Gwaine simultaneously looked to him without any argument. Stepping off of the wall, he followed her to a room with a window beside the door, giving Arthur a haunting preview of how pale Merlin was, of the needles and tubes sticking out of him like tentacles. Stepping into the room, Merlin’s head turned, but his glasses were folded on the bedside table.

“He’s still under narcotics,” his mother whispered, “but he can hold a conversation.”

Arthur watched as she stepped forward. Merlin’s hand lifted into the air, wavering until she took it, and placed his palm on her cheek. “Mom,” he rasped.

“I’m here, baby,” she cooed. “Your friends are outside. They’re allowed to see you one at a time.”

“Okay,” he said weakly, diverting his attention toward a straw leading to a bag of water beside his hip. Arthur stepped forward, more clumsily than he meant to, and the sound turned Merlin’s face toward him. His sleepy eyes lingered in the space Arthur occupied, his hand raising tentatively.

Leaning closer, Arthur guided his hand to his face. The corners of Merlin’s mouth fell somewhat at the unfamiliarity. Arthur felt his smooth fingers reach up towards his hair, rubbing the golden wheat locks before descending back down. The pads of his fingers traced his lips… “Arthur?”

The confused disbelief on his face melted as he suddenly warned, “Arthur, Cedric…he, I don’t know if he saw. You have to be careful—!”

Arthur heaved a sigh and scooped Merlin’s torso into a hug. He heard Merlin’s breath rush out as he pressed against Arthur’s chest. “Hush, you fool…” he purred, cradling Merlin’s head to his shoulder. “You bloody, precious fool…”

Carefully setting him down, Arthur lifted Merlin’s hair to kiss his forehead without thinking about it. “Why can’t you be this nice all the time?” Merlin whispered.

A weak laugh bubbled up in Arthur’s throat. “I’m plenty nice to people I like…and I like you...but I haven’t been as nice as I should have been.”

Merlin shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I understand why you’re angry with me.”

“No, no, Merlin,” Arthur hushed. “It was wrong of me to focus my anger on you. It would have been focused on Gwen, and that would also have been unfair considering just how many people were involved…” he added peevishly.

Merlin’s brows lifted expectantly. Arthur sighed, “I know about Morgana and Gwen…Gwaine was kind enough to let that slip in the corridor.”

To his surprise, Merlin giggled. The soft, bright smile and squinted eyes caught Arthur completely off guard. “Everything’s fucked up, isn’t it?” he laughed quietly.

“Uh…yes,” Arthur wondered. “Why are you laughing about it?”

“Because you’re all so honest,” Merlin revealed. “Secrets might be kept, but you don’t lie about them once they’re known. That’s better than what I’m used to. Are you mad?”

Arthur exhaled heavily, unconsciously playing with Merlin’s fingers. “I don’t know what to be mad about, anymore. I don’t know who to trust.”

Merlin grimaced and further surprised Arthur by pressing a finger to his forehead. “First thing you think about Lancel—go!”

“What?” he exclaimed, flabbergasted.

Merlin pressed his finger harder. “What do you think of when I say the name ‘Lancel’? Go!”

“Wha—uhm…I don’t know! His hair’s better than mine.”

Merlin’s expression was deadpan. “Wow. Do better. I’m talking memories, here.”

“What do you want me to say?” Arthur retorted. “That I have Lancel kissing Guinevere burned into my eyelids?”

Merlin shook his head, keeping his finger poised where it was. “I didn’t say Gwen’s name. I said Lancel. What is the first memory that reoccurs to you?”

Arthur huffed a breath. “I don’t know…running around the track…falling out of a tree and him setting my broken arm…”

Merlin’s finger tapped his forehead. “Gwaine.”

He thought about it. “Curly hair, Grecian face…surprisingly nice singing voice.”

Tap. “Morgana.”

“My father,” Arthur responded, and then more quietly, “Standing up against my father…cleaning the garden…”

Merlin inhaled deeply before he tapped a new name: “Merlin.”

“Regret,” Arthur answered almost instantly. Merlin’s hand flinched back, only to be caught between Arthur’s warm hands. “Your honesty. Your sass that drives me up a wall. The fact that somehow you’ve managed to carry me twice to a safe bed. The one time I was able to repay you, you felt so light in my arms.”

“I have five added pounds to my name, thank you very much. Maybe more, I lost track…” His expression suddenly fell into a pout. “Or maybe not…the doctors cleaned me out…”

Arthur laughed, propping his head on his hand while his elbows settled on Merlin’s cot. Those dark lashes swooped up, Merlin’s Mediterranean eyes hovering over the space Arthur occupied. “My point is, you haven’t lost anything. You know who to trust, you just have to remember how. They know their mistake, and they’ve learned.”

Arthur’s finger traced lightly along the vein in which the I.V. needle was nestled. “I don’t think it is that simple.”

Merlin fell back on his pillow with a huff. “Love is an open door, you prat. Stop finding locks where there aren’t any.”

“Don’t you dare quote _Frozen_ at me!” Arthur retaliated, before he learned the trap Merlin caught him in.

“You’ve seen _Frozen_?” he smirked, slurping through his straw.

“Morgana dragged me to the theatre. Shut up.”

Merlin’s chest trembled with his laughter. Arthur told him that he would send in one of the others, to which Merlin nodded. Gwaine was already outside of the door, and Arthur lingered long enough to see Merlin pat his curls and giggle, “Gwaine.”

Lancel was typing on his phone when Arthur took the seat next to him. The suddenly close proximity brought Lancel’s message to a pause as he gazed curiously at Arthur. Conversationally, he stated, “So I’m considering forgiving you, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Lancel’s smile beamed. “Merlin must be a miracle worker, then. Try to keep him alive, Arthur. We need him.” He finished his message and leaned back, waiting his turn.

At about two in the morning, he and Gwaine decided to head back to campus, but Arthur still felt wide awake. Merlin’s mother approached him with a cup bearing a café’s logo, which Arthur accepted gratefully. “I’ve spoken with the doctors. They’ll allow both of us stay with him, if you’d like.”

Arthur sipped the rich coffee and nodded. “Yes, I would.”

“Go on in,” she ushered. “Merlin’s doctor has finally arrived and needs to speak with me.”

Arthur frowned, puzzled. “You mean…his doctor from home? Why not the doctors here?”

She smiled mysteriously. “I brought the only copy of Merlin’s medical records. The hospital insists on having a copy of them, but I only trust one doctor to handle them.”

Arthur wondered how the receptionist office was handling that, but he let it go. Merlin was already asleep in his bed, so Arthur shut the door as silently as he could, and resumed the seat next to him. Somehow, during her coffee run, his mother had gotten a plush, white comforter, which she had snuck in and draped over Merlin’s cot. He’d moved in his sleep, tucking it in places that gave the impressions of legs, a hip, but otherwise only the top half of his face was visible.

Arthur wasn’t thinking anything of it, but a thin, white line peeking out form behind Merlin’s hair caught his attention. Delicately moving his hair to the side, Arthur revealed the thread-like, jagged pale lines of scar tissue along his hairline.

His eyes flicked to the end of the bed, where a clipboard hung off the bar. The blinds on the window had since been closed, so he stood up, and plucked the clamped file off the rail. He could tell immediately, by the texture of the paper and from the dates printed, that Merlin’s medical record was aged and handled often. The pages further back were basic: shot records over the years, checkups, chicken pox, and plenty of scribble and code numbers that were indecipherable.

Closer to the top of the stack, however, two letters and a word he recognized stood next to a date that was a little over a year ago: _O.D. Rohypnol. 101μ/L._

Arthur quickly ran a search on his phone and frowned at the extended name for roofies. Merlin had been drugged once? An over dose…

 _Over dose and mononucleosis in one visit?_ he read. _Christ, he was hospitalized the whole summer after his freshman year…antibiotics, antibiotics, antibiotics—was he ever allowed solid food? No wonder he’s so thin…What’s this? Contusions, internal bleeding, surgical glue instead of stitches, antibacterial gel, antidepressants—_

Arthur gaped at the paperwork, and then the slumbering figure in the bed before him. _Oh, Merlin…what happened to you?_

“He took sophomore year off.”

Arthur whirled around, caught with the file clutched to his hands. Merlin’s mother smiled kindly, gently prying the folder from his grasp. “He got into some trouble his freshman year of university,” she explained, and then paused as she thought better of it. “No…trouble found him. He stayed home during his sophomore year, taking online courses, getting his credits completed.”

Arthur swallowed. “The antidepressants worked, then?”

There was a smirk to her lips. “He never took them. The doctors insisted and insisted, but he wouldn’t swallow them, and I wasn’t forcing him into those disastrous side effects. Things might have been…easier…if I had pushed him. If he had taken the medicine prescribed, he might not have become as reclusive as he did…but he surprised me. Ultimately, he wanted to finish school with people. With friends. A dear, old friend of mine was a professor in a university across the country, so I gave Merlin his e-mail address. The rest is history.”

 _Must have been something important to make you run across the country,_ his own words echoed in his memory.

“Is it all right for me to ask, what happened to him?” Arthur ventured.

The sad smile she wore next told him his answer before she spoke. “I may be his mother, but it is not my place. Merlin’s strong, but he’s still recovering. In time, he’ll tell you, and probably sooner than you think.”

Arthur nodded his understanding before his chin dropped, his mind considering. “I think I will go home.”

“Are you sure?” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to run you off.”

“No, you didn’t,” he chuckled. “He needs you right now, not me. And…I appreciate your not calling the hospital staff. Unauthorized disclosure of medical records is…”

“Indeed.” Her eyes twinkled keenly. “Let’s not be coy. I trust you, because Merlin trusts you. But I don’t care who your father is.”

The threat was subtle, but it made Arthur grin foolishly. “Merlin takes after you quite well. You don’t know how refreshing that is.”

“Yes, yes,” she scoffed smugly. “Run along, now, before your father comes looking for you and I give him a piece of my mind.”


	10. Failed Hypothesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Merlin recovers in the hospital, Arthur and Morgana discuss matters over dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! But I've got a surprise coming that hopefully a number of you might enjoy, depending on what fandoms you're a part of. More details on the way ;)
> 
> WARNING: if you're not comfortable reading non-consentual material, do not proceed.

Just a few hours later, Arthur awoke before the sun had crested the trees around his house. After returning from the hospital, he’d found a missed call and a message from his father, but even so late at night he was away on business, so Arthur replied with a brief text and burrowed beneath his bedclothes.

Now, however, as was blending a smoothie for the drive to the hospital, Morgana emerged in the kitchen, one eye barely open and her hair wonderfully frazzled. “Do you have enough for two?” she asked through a yawn.

“Yes,” he responded, “but not for you.”

He poured two sealable mugs with a cheery smirk on his face as he dumped the blender in the sink and breezed past his sister. Morgana sighed, following him to the garage. “I’ll apologize this evening over dinner, yes?”

Arthur pivoted to cast her an innocent, vacant look. “Whatever for, sweet sister?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh fuck off. You’ll thank me eventually. Until then, be at the Gryffin Finery by seven o’clock. Send my regards to Merlin.”

“Why should I spend profuse amounts of money on overly salted food when I could eat here?” he goaded, clenching the spare drink in his elbow as he opened the garage door.

“Because I called Merlin to check on him and his mother answered the phone. Wonderful woman, but she told me he would be in the hospital for another couple of days. You have no one to terrorize but me until then. We’re going to have a fun lab, you and I, come Tuesday.”

Arthur grimaced slightly as he turned to open his car door. “The only terror is you, Morgana.”

“Don’t you forget it!” she sang, shutting the garage door behind her.

Several miles later, Arthur was strolling through the corridor to Merlin’s room. Despite it being the crack of dawn, he was propped up on his bed with his laptop on his stomach and a bowl of soup balanced on his chest. A straw as well as a spoon poked out of the broth, but Merlin’s gaze perked up and he shoved his headphones off his ears as he waved silently. His mother was asleep on a guest cot beside the window.

“Why are you here so early?” he whispered.

Arthur gave an affronted smile as he planted the cold smoothie in the bend of Merlin’s neck. “Wow, after all the trouble I went through to make you a decent breakfast.”

“You made this?” Merlin chattered after startling from the cold. He unscrewed the lid and sniffed the pinkish soup. “You sure? Morgana didn’t blend it?”

Arthur’s look was genuinely deadpan this time. “I _can_ make some things. Particularly when no actual cooking is involved. Is it too solid in your stomach?”

Merlin hummed an indecipherable answer as he sipped the fruity concoction. He smacked his lips lightly, pondering, “Figs?”

Arthur’s smoothie halted on his lips. “Yes…don’t tell Morgana. It’s supposed to be a secret ingredient, and she tells me you’re not getting out soon enough for chemistry? She is beside herself, being alone with me and burners and chemicals…”

Merlin chuckled quietly. “You’ll hardly be alone. You’ll have your own uncle there making sure you don’t blow up the place.”

“Still,” he sat back in his chair, taking a moment to sip his breakfast, “I didn’t think you were so unwell. You seem to have bounced back quickly enough.”

Merlin shrugged, cleaning his straw with his lips before using it to stir the smoothie. “I think Cedric had half a mind to kill you, or he didn’t take into consideration your size when he dosed the wine.”

“That isn’t humorous,” Arthur chided.

Merlin’s eyes flicked over to him. “I know. I drank it. You’re welcome, but if there was ever a time to take advantage of your last name, you might want to get him as far from you as possible.”

“Have him expelled?” Arthur considered that. “I’m not entirely sure I have the power to do it; I am merely a student, and I would need solid proof Cedric’s hand put the drugs in the wine—why are you looking at me like that?”

Merlin’s dubious features evaporated as he shook his head, sucking through his straw. “It’s fine if it’s your decision not to, but your intelligence is dull if you believe you’re a student, the same as the rest of us. Your father had half the deans eating out of his palm last night. Arthur, with your skill at wooing people and your father’s power, you could have anything you wanted.”

He knew Merlin meant it as praise, but nonetheless, Arthur frowned deeply. “I do not want that kind of power. I’m not saying Cedric should go ignored, but I don’t want to be the exception among the deans. They should not hold a particular student above the others. That is more than unfair, it is an abuse of power and my father could be fined for solicitation or bribery for his contributions to the school.”

“You don’t need to take it that far,” Merlin curtailed mildly. “I’m just saying Cedric is quiet, but he is the brain hiding behind Val’s muscle and Myror’s money. I don’t know why he would want to drug you, but if he was willing to do it right in front of the deans, you can’t underestimate him.”

Arthur considered that critically. Cedric might have had half a mind to poison him, but Arthur had half a mind to find him behind a building and remind him of his size. His train of thought paused on one of the tidbits Merlin had said. “I am larger than you. How did the dosage affect you in such a way as to keep you hospitalized?”

Merlin chuckled mirthlessly as he went back to sipping his soup. “I can barely eat steak. My body was not in the prime condition for what Cedric had in mind.”

“Why not?” Arthur could not help blurting. “You are of a prime age for health.”

Merlin’s eyes wavered in the air as he considered how to answer. He shrugged delicately so he did not dislodge the soup on his diaphragm and the smoothie tucked into his side. “I was sick for a long time a little over a year ago. It’s called ‘the kissing disease’ as a joke, but mono really takes it out of you.”

Arthur frowned. There was more in Merlin’s medical history than mononucleosis, but Merlin did not know Arthur knew this. He himself had a brief scare with the disease before college, and had lost ten pounds over the course of a weekend before his antibiotics kicked in. Arthur could not imagine how Merlin suffered through several weeks of it ransacking his body—a body struggling with an over dose, as it were. Merlin was certainly slender now, but this was the result of a year’s worth or recuperation... Arthur discovered a heavy, painful pit in his stomach at the thought of Merlin’s skeletal frame lying in a bed of needles and tubes with only beeping machines to keep him company.

The more Arthur pondered what he’d read, the more questions he wanted to ask, but Merlin was not ready to answer them.

“Morgana wants to have dinner this evening,” he sighed, leaning back in his seat.

Merlin was visibly more comfortable with the change of subject. “Oh?”

Arthur unconsciously combed his hair to the side. “I think she has it in her mind to apologize, but nothing is ever simple with her.”

Merlin had finished his soup and returned to the smoothie. “Are you ready to hear her apology?”

His blond head slanted as it rested on his fist. “I’m not sure. Part of me hates her for sleeping with my girlfriend, but then I remember that Gwen was never really mine to begin with. She says I’ll thank her in the long run, but it hurts too much to see such a future right now.”

Merlin’s eyes swooped up as a lost memory resurfaced as an epiphany. She had mentioned how Arthur would never focus on him if Gwen was in the way…but the notion that she was doing all of this just to get Merlin a boyfriend made the smoothie taste sour. “Whatever,” he chimed, “just keep me out of it.”

“Why would you come into it?” Arthur wondered skeptically.

He replied innocently. “The dinner should be about the two of you, working things out. Don’t dwell on me. I’ve got _Game of Thrones_ to last me ‘til Tuesday and my mom refuses to let me eat hospital food.”

Arthur shook his head as he rose from his chair. “Well, I ought to get some work done before then. You should expect your roommates here around lunchtime, I expect.”

“Thanks for the smoothie,” Merlin offered as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Uh huh. I expect you to drink all of it. Just because yesterday was Halloween doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you as a skeleton.” He did his customary shove of Merlin’s head.

“Be nice,” he complained. Arthur’s fingers lingered longer than usual in his silky, black tresses. The cowlicks curled around his fingers fondly.

“I’m always nice,” he purred, leaning in to kiss the end of a scar, threading its way up Merlin’s temple to his forehead. “But if you’re wanting a ‘Get Well’ card, Gwaine’s already planned to get a massive one that sings.”

Merlin waved him out, sipping his smoothie contently. The day passed relatively slowly for Arthur, yet before he knew it he was receiving texts from Morgana, reminding him to _‘get your ass to the Gryffin.’_

The restaurant was across the street from _Good Company,_ but Arthur peered at it with a hint of disdain as he handed his keys to the valet and strolled into the dimly lit restaurant. More than one patron was eyeing his sister, who sat with her hair tamed in smooth waves, pinned to cascade over one silky shoulder, her deep violet kimono cardigan tied around her slim waist. She smiled when he approached and handed him a large glass of white wine. “Everything well?”

Arthur flicked his eyes up at her before watching the wine swirl around the glass. “As well as it can be, I suppose.”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Drink already. I won’t be able to talk to you without a glass in your veins.”

He glared across the table as she sipped from her own. “You’re perfectly capable of communicating without my blood alcohol content coming into this.”

Her aquamarine eyes locked onto his topaz blue ones. “You’re far more amiable when you’ve loosened up, not to mention your ears will be more open to what I have to say.”

Resigned, he drank. The wine was fresh, crisp, but also sweet. Morgana knew he had a strong sweet tooth. A waiter came by with an appetizer of cheesy artichoke hearts. Arthur ordered a blue cheese steak while Morgana had the garlic gnocchi soup. As they waited for their food, Arthur worked his way through half his glass before he cornered his sister: “Get on with it. If you’re hoping I’ll somehow forget you screwed my girlfriend, there isn’t enough alcohol in the world. Absinthe, maybe. Was I in the house when this happened or were you in her dorm?”

Morgana’s finger languidly swirled around the rim of her glass, eliciting a slow, cool note into the air. She ignored the latter inquiry. “I don’t want you to forget. I want you to remember how you desire someone’s undivided attention.”

Arthur frowned, not fully understanding. “What are you saying? That Gwen wasn’t right for me, or that I should be a selfish, possessive bastard? Hardly realistic, sister. Do you think so lowly of my next counterpart?”

She giggled around the artichoke in her mouth. Washing it down with wine, she responded. “I’ll admit my methods are crude but I assure you, I have the best of intentions. For you and your conquest. The tramp from last night does not count.”

“That remains to be seen,” her brother scoffed, “and she was…a date, nothing more.”

“Oh, I am aware,” she laughed haughtily. Her chuckles lasted longer than Arthur thought necessary, causing him to wonder what was running through his sister’s mind. “How goes father’s campaign?” she asked spontaneously.

“Fine,” he answered warily, watching her across the table.

“You’re not tired of lying for him? You know, eventually people are going to see him for what he is.”

“What does he have to do with Guinevere?” Arthur countered peevishly.

“Nothing,” she chimed innocently. “Gwen is out of the picture, stop painting her into this. I am truly and genuinely sorry for the discord between the two of you. Honestly, it should have ended months ago. So I used myself as a catalyst? How can you grow to hate someone who wants your heart whole and happy? Especially when I’ve got Uther to juxtapose myself to, and miraculously you haven’t come to hate him.”

“He is our father,” Arthur growled. “Say what you will, he has always provided for us. Everything he does is in the pursuit of our family.”

Morgana made a sound that was equal parts scoffing and indignant snorting. “Uther Pendragon fights to fill the bullet hole in his chest from when his wife died. _You_ are fighting for a man who neither deserves the amount of time you devote to him, nor returns the painstaking attention you give him. She was his better half, the best part of him, but she is gone. Stop letting Uther search for her in you. If Uther wants his wife back, he may do well to clean her damn fountain every once in a while.”

“That man didn’t have to take you in,” Arthur reminded darkly. “He could have left you with your mother and stepfather, but he fought for you the moment he saw you might be in a destructive household. You think he ignores you, but he doesn’t. He’s always aware of what goes on with us.”

Morgana shook her head, smiling even though there was no mirth in it. “He really has you trained, the sweet, golden son. Do you know _how_ he knows what goes on in the house he’s rarely in? He has spies on us. You look up to a man who does not trust his own children. He would probably have a personal nanny assigned to both of us if I hadn’t intervened with the spies and Uther directly. He seemed to have forgotten how birthdays come annually, and against all odds you and I were beyond his legal jurisdiction. The spies backed off readily enough once they realized they were shit at their jobs, reminded that what they were doing was wondrously illegal, and they can be paid more easily to fuck off.”

“You know very well what happened to his wife, and don’t pretend for a moment she wasn’t your mother, too,” Arthur warned. “The man has every reason to be over protective.”

She leaned forward, capturing his gaze steadily. “Let me paint you a new picture, and I want you to look me in the eye and tell me with total certainty whether he would support you or not. Here it is: something or someone makes you happy. The relationship between you two is entirely mutual and happy, but it operates outside of his framework. Maybe the person you love is gay, or originates from another country, or is more artistically inclined than politically—whatever. Would Uther give you his blessing?”

The lie was on his tongue, and Arthur was ready to give it, but what gave him pause was how it was just that: a lie. He knew without thinking that in Morgana’s scenario, Uther would readily object; he would speak plainly and pressure Arthur to end things in his own time, but the opposition would constantly be present.

He’d half expected Uther to reject Guinevere the first time they met; it had been one of the few times his father had shocked him with the contrary. Uther had not been raised or been a racist man before the death of his wife, so he wasn’t becoming one so late in life. However, the few times Arthur had found himself looking at men…the rushed patter of his heart when a larger hand brushed his or how a certain cut of jeans hugged a tapered waist just right…he’d gotten sick to his stomach at the notion of bringing a boyfriend home for his father to meet.  
Not that he minded only dating women; quite the opposite, there was much in the female form he relished. When it came to his bisexuality, though, Arthur was so far in the closet that it stung when his sister reminded him it was not solely private knowledge.

“Should I take your silence as acquiescence?” Morgana whispered.

She knew she was right whether he admitted it or not, so he chose not to. “Using these underhanded methods…you’re not any better than he is,” Arthur reminded her. “I may be my mother’s son but your our father’s daughter.”

The glimmer in Morgana’s eyes dimmed. It may have been the first time in her life someone had given her cause to step back and assess her actions. “Even so,” she uttered stiffly. “I won’t live under his palm anymore, even if I have to do everything on my own, Arthur. You’ll thank me in the end.”

Their food arrived, but neither of them had much of an appetite.

Come Tuesday, Merlin slept in late in the hospital after a night of design work on his computer and finishing a season of his show. As expected, his stomach could finally handle solid foods again, and he and his mother were out of there by early afternoon.

“When will you fly back?” he asked in the car.

His mother considered it as she answered, “I’m not sure. Most of the fields are fallow for the winter, and the neighbors are looking after the bulbs while I am away. I thought I’d stay a while and reconnect with Gaius. He has offered to let me stay with him.”

“If you’re secretly staying on my account, you needn’t trouble yourself…” Merlin chided as he checked his e-mail on his phone.

His mother groaned behind the steering wheel of the rental car. “Heaven forbid I act the mother and spend time with my son. I actually think Gaius is lonely and is looking forward to the company. He’s really taken to you—are you listening?”

Merlin was frowning at the screen. “Hm? Yes, I’m just reading something from my teacher…he says I have to do a replacement lab for the one I missed this morning.”

“Does this person not know you were on medical leave?” his mother bristled.

Merlin shook his head, “Maybe not, but he’s a professor who operates by firm regulations. He’s Arthur’s uncle.”

“Oh, well that explains everything,” she scoffed. “It is truly a wonder how Arthur and his sister could have turned out so charming and open to converse with.”

“You know Morgana?”

His mother nodded. “She called while you were asleep to check on you. When must you make up this lab?”

“My class is cancelled tomorrow,” Merlin explained as he typed a reply to Dr. Agravaine. "It should be enough time to finish a lab."

She pulled into Gaius’s driveway, causing Merlin to perk his gaze up. He had never actually seen his advisor’s house, but the tall, narrow brick exterior appeared right at home in Arthur’s neighborhood beside campus. A large circular window looked out over the small lawn as its owner answered the door and laughed merrily while hugging his old friend. Gaius felt warm and solid when he hugged Merlin, and he must have noticed their contrast because he said, “Dinner’s just finished. Let’s get some meat on your bones.”

The house proved to be as tall and narrow as the façade, much smaller than the other homes of the community. The main floor was a kitchen and dining area together with a living room, and upstairs were two bedrooms.

Afterward, Merlin chose to walk back to his dorm, and with winter in the air, his phone rang. For a second, he stared vacantly at the name on the screen, before he remembered that Arthur had put his number in his phone. “Hello?”

“Are you on campus, yet?” Arthur cut right to it.

Merlin sighed and paused on the sidewalk, his mind already mapping a route to Arthur’s house since the prat was likely to demand he come over. “I’m about to be. Why?”

“Just checking.”

The line was silent. “Were you worried about me?”

“Of course not,” Arthur snapped, and then went on to ask, “Where are you if you’re not on campus?”

A grin tugged at Merlin’s lips. “I’m walking out of your neighborhood after having dinner with my mother and Gaius.”

“Ah.” Merlin glared at a tree since Arthur was not present. “I supposed Lancel and Gwaine will be anxiously awaiting you.”

“Arthur, it’s cold out here. Tell me if I’m coming over or not. Otherwise figure your boredom out.”

“It’s your own fault for choosing to walk.”

“Is your door unlocked?”

“Probably not. Why?” Arthur wondered.

“Because I realized Gaius lives around the corner from you. Open your door or give me a lift.”

“Come through the gate,” Arthur countered impatiently. “The sunroom’s usually open.”

Merlin jogged around the house and flicked the latch holding the gate closed…only to be stopped by the locked sunroom. “It’s definitely not open, you blond dollop.”

He hugged his skinny frame as he bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for Arthur to get to the weather door. Merlin could hear Arthur groaning as he rose off his bed and muttered complaints like, “…useless toad…” into the receiver. The darkness of the interior made Merlin startle slightly when Arthur abruptly opened the door, but the man stood in the doorframe for a long moment, looking over Merlin as if he was not really there. Merlin, however, blinked at Arthur’s bare chest and tapered waist on which sweat pants hung. At least some heat returned to his face.

Without a word, Arthur moved aside, and Merlin eagerly ducked under his arm to the warmth of the house. In the kitchen, Morgana intercepted him in a hug, surprising him with the scent of roasted oranges and sage in her hair. “I’m so glad you’re on your feet again,” she murmured before releasing him. Loud enough for Arthur’s ears, she said, “Really, it should have been obvious something was abnormal when you were about to drink alcohol. Shall I boil water for tea?” she added in defiance toward Arthur’s glare.

“Uh…sure,” Merlin admitted, “That’d be nice.”

“Go wait in the living room. We have a fire going,” Morgana ushered. Upon entering said room, Merlin felt as if he were entering a den or a cave. Orange light flickered across the ceiling while an ornate rug of crimson, cream, and green rested beneath oversized furniture. The room was toasty and he removed his shoes by the foyer before curling into a chair that was able to sit two people. Morgana must have used an electric kettle, because a moment later she entered with a steeping pot and two cups.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve got a full day tomorrow. Goodnight, boys!”

Merlin’s head jerked up. “You didn’t have to do this if you were going to bed!”

“Hush, it’s no trouble. At this hour, you almost might as well stay the night. Either way, sleep well, you two.”

Arthur murmured a reply and dropped onto the couch next to Merlin, who kept his eyes on the curling tendrils of steam wafting out of the kettle spout—certainly not how the fire rippled shadows across Arthur’s strong chest and lean abdomen. “Are you attending classes tomorrow?” he inquired conversationally.

“Yep,” Merlin replied, setting his spectacles on his knee to rub his eyes. It was far easier speaking with a half naked Arthur when he couldn’t see anything. “I need to get back into the schedule as soon as possible, and I’ve got the replacement lab in the morning.”

“Replacement lab?” Arthur scoffed. “What do you mean?”

Merlin lifted his glasses to peek at him. “I was absent Tuesday. I have to make up the lab…you’ve missed two. Has Dr. Agravaine contacted you about them?”

Arthur appeared dismayed. “No…not a word.”

Merlin shrugged, trying to say lightly, “Do you think it’s because you’re his nephew?”

Arthur’s lips pursed slightly when he pressed them together in thought. “No…he rues all of his students equally…but I will speak with him sometime about this.”

“Why don’t you come with me tomorrow morning?” Merlin asked as he leaned forward to pour himself tea.

He went ahead and poured Arthur’s as well while he responded, “I can’t. Father wants me to attend a committee conference. I won’t be free until perhaps lunchtime.” Arthur looked at the clock by the window and added. “It’s nearly eleven. Surely it's passed your bedtime. Morgana’s right, you ought to stay here.”

Merlin stared dumbly when Arthur stood and began sauntering his way to the stairs. “But…we haven’t drunk the tea.”

Arthur glared at him from under his brows. “It’s hot water, Merlin. You can make more yourself in the morning. Get up here.”

Reluctantly leaving perfectly good tea on the table, Merlin followed Arthur up the stairs. When they passed Arthur’s room, Merlin began marveling once more at the house—he hadn’t been this far down the corridor before—until the sight of the guest bedroom proved to not be up to par with the rest of the house.

“Well…your storage space is well organized,” Merlin teased dryly. On the bed were piles of framed paintings; lined along one of the walls were rolled carpets, the desk was littered with documents, and the floor was strewn with exotic bits of furniture. All in all, the room was so clogged there was not enough space for Merlin to lie anywhere.

Arthur sighed haughtily, “It cannot be helped. You’ll sleep with me.”

 _“Huh?”_ Merlin felt like his heart had stopped beating.

“Grab those blankets,” Arthur pointed. “You can make yourself a bed on the floor.”

“Oh,” he coughed bluntly. “Of course. It wouldn't make sense to share a bed large enough for three people.”

“This is not a slumber party, Merlin. My bed is mine. Have you gotten those blankets, yet?”

Merlin shook his head, yanking the damn blankets off the dresser. Under his breath he muttered, “It’s all right, Merlin. Of course you can share my luxurious bed sized for Henry the Eighth and _all six of his wives._ No, no, I understand you ache from a poor hospital cot, yes, it’s fine. Come, my mattress is preheated…”

“You’re not subtle, Merlin,” Arthur scolded, deadpan. He stood inside his room with his hands on his hips.

Merlin paused and looked around. “Shall I sleep here or by the window? I’m not sure where the coolest draft might come from.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Christ, if you’re going to cry about it! Get the hell in, already.”

He dropped the musty blankets and neatly folded his jacket, sweater, and scarf into a neat-ish pile by the door. Diving under the bedclothes in his jeans and t-shirt, Merlin shuddered as immediate warmth seeped into his bones. Arthur sighed from the other side of the bed. “You’re like a petticoat, except I assume those garments actually kept people warm.”

Merlin was too busy to respond since he had set his glasses on the bedside bureau and was currently breathing in the scent of Arthur’s conditioner from the pillow. “Goodnight,” he murmured contently.

“Yeah,” Arthur returned. Merlin faded into slumber immediately; he was on the cusp of his dreams when Arthur reiterated, “Goodnight, Merlin.”

He smiled in his sleep.

But when he awoke, Arthur was already gone. Merlin startled awake, finding himself sprawled across the bed while his mobile alarm sang in his jacket across the room. Feeling for his spectacles, Merlin trudged clumsily to his phone to shut it off and carried his belongings downstairs, where Morgana greeted him with cucumber soup and fresh fruit.

The morning sunlight made it tolerable to walk to campus and the science building. Dr. Agravaine was already there and waiting next to his counter, the lab supplies and report sitting idly. “Mr. Emrys…have a nice lie in?”

Merlin frowned as he looked at the clock: fifteen minutes late. His frown deepened as he checked his phone: five minutes early. “The clock’s wron—”

Agravaine shooed him across the room while he shut the door. “Put your phone away and get started. I prefer idle mornings, too, but we must make do with what we’ve got.”

Merlin obediently set his bag down and shoved his cell into his pocket. Reading over the preliminary procedures while he donned his lab coat, he felt the professor join him at the counter. Merlin peeked at him curiously, to which he informed, “Normally you have two assistants. Suddenly stripping you of their help is hardly fair.”

“Thank you, sir,” Merlin said warily, “but, I’m comfortable performing the experiment on my own.”

“I won’t have you blowing up my laboratory, nor will I let my time go to waste. Now, what is the first step?”

Merlin read the instructions and proceeded to measure powders for the test tubes while Dr. Agravaine stood by, making sure he did not make a mess of things and occasionally holding something steady. “Tell me, Merlin,” he said conversationally while the lights were dimmed for the pale blue glow of the luminol to be seen. “What is your interest in photography?”

He glanced up from where he was righting in the report to say, “Nothing extensive; I’m an artist, so I often work from photographs, or I like taking them when the mood strikes me.”

“Indeed.” He could hear Agravaine swallow before he continued, “When do such moods occur to you?”

Merlin wasn’t sure where this was coming from, but he pondered the question. “It usually depends on the lighting of wherever I am. The atmosphere, the mood, of whatever you’re trying to capture is established through the lighting.”

“Such as right now, you might say.”

Merlin guffawed as he swirled the contents within a glass tube. “In a half lit classroom? Even the luminol is fading, there isn’t much…here…”

His gaze focused on Agravaine’s dark eyes, shadowed by something ravenous, like he was eating Merlin with his eyes before he could touch him. Unbidden, Merlin’s eyes dropped, and the test tube in his hand shattered on the counter when he saw the blatant tent in the man’s trousers.

Merlin instantly took a step back. “Wh-Why are you talking about photography?”

“I think you know why, Mr. Emrys,” he said darkly, and Merlin felt ill when one of his hands reached for his belt. He darted a step to go around, but Agravaine lashed out with his other arm and gripped Merlin’s coat and shirt underneath. “Bend over the counter.”

“No!” he exclaimed, but it cracked in his throat as the belt jingled open, and with a simple pop of the button, the short but thick ruddy cock sprang free. Merlin tasted cucumber bile in the back of his throat a second before his arm was wrenched behind his back and his diaphragm slammed against the edge of the counter. He felt the heavy erection rubbing along the hip of his jeans and Agravaine’s sharp, greedy hands reaching around him, searching for the button and zipper of his jeans. Panic boiled in his belly, and he reached for the only weapon he knew of: his pen.

But it was too far, so Merlin’s hand fell onto the shards of glass and the jagged end of the test tube. He twisted around, and buried it in Agravaine’s cheek, dragging it downwards as the man roared in agony. With his hands momentarily distracted, Merlin kicked his bag out from under the counter, and ran after it, picking it up as it skidded toward the door.

He burst out of the laboratory, sprinting for all his burning lungs were worth, not daring to slow his pace in order to look back to see if he was being followed—

“GUUGFF!” he cried when he slammed into someone exiting the stairwell when he was trying to enter it.

“Oof! Fuck, hell, ow—Merlin?” Arthur exclaimed, but one look at Merlin’s ghostly complexion, his erratic breathing, and his pupils so dilated his irises were almost black, he gripped his trembling body against his sturdy one. His arm encircled the narrow waist while his other hand tangled itself in the black mass.

For a brief moment, Merlin’s terror came pouring out of him in a wet, tremulous sob. His hands clung to Arthur’s shirt while his face buried in the fabric. “Merlin, what happen—”

But just as quickly, Merlin shoved him aside with more strength than Arthur thought possible, and multitasked cramming his lab coat into his bag, donning his jacket and scarf, all while dashing down the stairs as quickly as he could.


	11. Prince of the School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY HERE, oh my glob. Sorry for the wait!

“What exactly is happening?” Morgana asked in the quietest whisper she could muster. Arthur met her gaze and shared her confusion as they watched their uncle angrily teach class and warily peeked at Merlin with his head so far down his jaw was nearly tucked to his chest.

It was a new Tuesday, but for the rest of the previous week and all weekend, Merlin had been as tight as a clam. He did not meet them for lunch, he ran by the dining hall only to pick up breakfast, he’d stayed in his room all weekend, and he had answered Arthur’s texts with mostly one-word replies. Arthur had grown so frustrated he’d messaged Gwaine and Lancel, who proved equally as clueless, and according to Leon, Percy, and Elyan, Merlin attended his rehearsals but did not stay to mingle; this was not out of the ordinary since he usually left to get straight to homework, but they had sensed Merlin’s abrupt change in mood.

Arthur thought and thought hard on the moment in the stairwell. Even now, his fist clenched on the counter as he vividly saw Merlin’s terror. He still felt how his spine had become an iron rod in his embrace, and worst of all, the sound of Merlin’s fear echoed in Arthur’s ears. When he’d sobbed against him, letting himself fall during a brief moment of vulnerability against Arthur, clutching him like he was a rock in a storm…Arthur had japed about Merlin crying but he had never in a thousand years expected he would. Now that he actually had…

After Merlin had dashed out of the building, Arthur had no choice but to continue his reason for being there: to discuss his missed labs with Agravaine. When he reached the door, however, it was locked, the lights were off inside, and the professor was not in his office.

Now he wore a large bandage over his entire cheek. The students were keen enough to know not to ask why, especially since the man was pricklier than ever, but there must be a connection between both his and Merlin’s demeanor. Merlin had told him he would be in the lab Wednesday morning, and Arthur had looked forward to catching up with him since the committee meeting ended early. Something happened which Merlin was not talking about.

Arthur’s eyes peered around the room until they locked on the small, black dome mounted in the corner, like a wart. He discretely turned to find another on the ceiling behind him. He had never really paid attention to the cameras before now, but if something happened in this room, the footage shouldn’t be too difficult to get ahold of.

Unsurprisingly, Agravaine released the class early, and Merlin was gone before Arthur had even finished folding his lab coat. Outside of the classroom, Arthur leaned into his sister and murmured, “Where do you suppose the cameras of this place feed to?”

She peered at him, a curious glint in her eyes. “Excellent question. I would say the room to our left, or one of the offices on the main floor. Shall we look?”

They approached the door labeled: _Control Room. Private._ Morgana knocked a tune and they waited until it became apparent there was no one inside. “Who might have a key?” Arthur pondered, whereas Morgana turned the knob. It opened smoothly. “So much for security integrity.”

“Be sure to lock it behind us,” she quipped as they faced a table flanked by a copy machine, a shelf, and filing cabinets. Upon the table rested a computer which fed to four monitors.

“Last Wednesday,” Arthur commanded when she sat down and began navigating through the security files. “Sometime between…ten-fifty and eleven-fifteen.”

“Wednesday…November fourth…” Morgana narrated, and then one of the monitors alternated between the corridor, and a couple laboratories’ footage. “Hang on…" she murmured as she settled on the one room. "Here’s the lab with the two of them. They’re still doing the preliminary luminol test before the fluorescent jellyfish samples.”

“I can tell,” Arthur returned sarcastically. “We did this last week. This doesn’t make it any easier to see with the lights off.”

“I wish there was sound,” his sister complained.

“Sound takes up more memory space than the university is willing to pay for,” he admitted conversationally as they watched the video progress.

Another few minutes passed before Morgana wondered, “When do you think something happened?”

“I arrived at the school right around eleven,” Arthur explained. “It took me perhaps five minutes to get to the building, and then less than that to climb the stairs…”

“Arthur!” she gasped.

Merlin was stepping away from Agravaine, and something was obviously wrong. Suddenly he took a step to the side, but Agravaine moved and something flashed past his hip, causing Morgana’s hand to fly over her mouth. “I may be sick…” she worried.

Arthur could only watch, appalled as his uncle forced Merlin over the counter. He moved Merlin’s hips roughly, groping and trying to get his raiment out of the way. Merlin’s arm reached for something, and then he reached behind him to stab whatever it was into Agravaine’s face. The man reared back, long enough for Merlin to kick his bag out from under the counter, and run with it out of the camera’s scope. Agravaine initially lunged after him, but seemed to think better of it as he tucked himself back into his trousers, wiped the entire lab into a garbage bin, and went out a side door.

Arthur fished in his bag for a USB drive and jabbed it into the computer. “Save the footage and delete it from the computer,” he ordered, feeling ill in his stomach as well. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth and through his hair while he heard Morgana typing away. _Fucking Christ, Merlin, if I had known…_

“Why isn’t Merlin talking about this?” he voiced angrily, not because he was mad at Merlin, but the entire situation, and particularly Agravaine. “This is serious! A professor doing this to a student!”

“Arthur,” his sister breathed. Her tone drew his attention, where pity and apprehension made her gaze heavy. “Our uncle did this to him. Can you blame him for being afraid?”

His eyes widened and he nearly gaped but he feared he might retch. “You think he…? No, Merlin knows us better than that! He wouldn’t think we would side with a rapist…no matter if we were related?”

“Maybe not, but our uncle, plus our father being a dean…it’s hard enough admitting this sort of thing, let alone entrusting family members to punish their relatives.”

“I don’t care who he is,” Arthur growled, yanking the memory stick from the computer. “Agravaine won’t last the semester after this.”

Shouldering his bag and gripping the USB firmly in his fist, he stormed out of the room with Morgana by his side. “Be careful, Arthur,” she warned. “Father will want an explanation as to why his in-law is being fired. Keep this within a majority of the deans and trustees, enough to get Agravaine’s hearing voted guilty. I’ll distract father until it’s done.”

“I should get the bastard arrested,” Arthur growled as they trotted down the stairs, “then a hearing would not be necessary, but father would throw a tirade at me for the stain this would cause on his campaign.”

Even in the darkest of times, Morgana huffed a laugh. “I doubt there will be much of a hearing once certain members see this video. You know which ones were not fond of him?”

“Oh yes,” Arthur smirked. “I know who to show this to.”

Meanwhile…Merlin sighed shakily at the screen of his phone. He couldn’t ignore a second call in one day from Gaius, otherwise he would know something was wrong. Merlin cleared his throat and said, “Hello?”

“Merlin? Are you all right? I worried when you didn’t pick up my first call.”

Merlin had a hoodie under his leather jacket to fight the cold, and the hood was drawn so far over his head, the edge brushed the rims of his glasses. “Just busy. Still catching up.”

He jogged across the street to the library as his advisor replied, “I understand. Why don’t you bring some of your homework over tonight while I make dinner again? Your mother keeps going on about some television program I must see, and I thought we could all enjoy a mid-week reprieve.”

The thought of showing up at a house with two people who could read right through him made Merlin’s belly plummet. He didn’t want someone asking him what was wrong. He didn’t want to explain. All he wanted to do was struggle through the last few weeks of the semester and then forget and forget and forget.

“Merlin?” Gaius called.

He grimaced under his hood, pressing his fingertips into his eyelids so the tears might be pushed back inside his skull. He inhaled, but it was so shaky he coughed harshly so his voice would sound stronger than he felt. “Sorry, something in my throat. I can’t. I’d be on the computer the whole time. Thanks, though. I have to go.”

There was a pause. “All right, Merlin. If anything comes up, you’ll come straight here, won’t you?”

He exhaled tremulously, hoping it translated as a laugh over the line. “Sure. Thank you, Gaius. Bye.”

He hung up before his mother grabbed the phone and demanded a more thorough explanation. As he marched into the library, Merlin was sure he was getting strange glances for his reclusive appearance, but he jogged up the stairs, away from prying eyes. He still felt phantom fingers clawing at his hips, his belly, and he didn’t need their eyes making it worse.

On the upper levels were private rooms where students or groups could have a private study area. Merlin delved deep into the forest of shelves, rounded a corner, and found one of the most remote rooms in the library. He’d stumbled upon it when everywhere else was full, and because this room was meant for one person and stood practically on the edge of the building, it was always free.

His phone buzzed, but he sent a brief decline toward Lancel’s invitation to a late lunch.

Shutting the door behind him, he spread out his belongings on the counter, poising his laptop next to the socket for his charger, and propping his reference drawings against the wall before he untangled his ear buds. The room was so small he could lean his chair on its hind legs so it rested against the back wall. Propping his heals on the counter with his drawing tablet on his thighs, Merlin navigated through his works in progress using its digital pen. After finding the one he wanted, he set to work finalizing the shading he’d been having so much trouble with. After this he could move on to establishing a color palette…

The door opened. He would have tumbled over his chair had it not been pressed against the wall. “Gwaine! Fuck…”

“Sorry!” his roommate grinned sheepishly as he squeezed himself into the room and shut the door. “Could you find a smaller cubicle? Damn.”

“I-I thought you were with Lancel,” Merlin blurted, hastily moving his materials to give Gwaine some space, but also to give himself a reason not to reveal how red his eyes likely were.

“I was,” he chimed, loudly finagling a chair into the room and probably disrupting the whole floor. He shut the door once more and dropped himself beside Merlin. “But mia madre sent a care package, as mothers do, so I’m stocked for a while.”

As proof, he extracted two handfuls of granola bars from his coat pockets and an entire tupper-ware dish of teriyaki rice, chicken, and broccoli from his rucksack. He handed Merlin a fork and finished, “I figured you were off being productive, so it inspired me to do the same, but I get distracted on my own. You weren’t in the graphic lab, so I came here.”

Gwaine was nothing if not persistent. Part of Merlin had to commend him for finding him, but the other part just wanted to be alone. He placed the fork on Gwaine’s side of the counter. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“Excuse you,” his roommate grabbed the fork and poked him with it. “It may have been sent by my mother but it’s my recipe, and I will feel deeply insulted if you don’t devour this with me… Seriously, it needs to get eaten. We don’t have enough room in the fridge,” he added guiltily.

Merlin exhaled heavily and stabbed a piece of broccoli. His mouth betrayed him by salivating instantly upon contact, the sweet and savory flavors singing on his tongue. He grumpily stabbed pieces of meat and vegetable into his mouth while they worked, Gwaine positioned like Merlin and with his own laptop on his thighs. Merlin noticed he seemed to be taking a bite every time Merlin did, and when he prodded Merlin to eat more, he was certain Gwaine was making him eat for a reason that had nothing to do with the food going bad. A pit of annoyance crawled in Merlin’s belly, but it was such a nice change from the bottomless shame he’d been feeling, he let Gwaine boss him a bit.

When the dish was finally only speckled with rice, they working in silence, during which Gwaine reached around him for the ear bud corresponding with his ear so the music was shared between them. Merlin unconsciously tugged his hood ever lower over his eyes and kept working despite his eyes blurring periodically to the point where he couldn’t see what he was working on.

Out of nowhere, Merlin felt his head being pulled to rest on Gwaine’s shoulder. The earpiece of his spectacles pressed into his temple, but he felt his roommate’s head lean over his through the hoodie. “You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured, “but you shouldn’t be alone.”

Merlin knew he hadn’t been the epitome of inconspicuous, but having Gwaine give him exactly what he needed—compassion without the prying—made the tears finally escape. He cried silently, ignoring the pain in his temple until it was no longer painful…

After a while, Gwaine ventured a peek at Merlin on his shoulder, and found him sound asleep. Carefully inserting his fingers under the hood, he caressed Merlin’s soft, ebony hair. He’d known something was wrong the moment Merlin had burst into the room and gone straight to the bathroom for an hour-long shower. The past several days only confirmed the fact, and Lancel had wanted to approach him directly, but Gwaine stymied his efforts.

“Something this bad,” he’d said, “won’t be easy for him to talk about. He can barely talk about personal things as it is. Just be there for him. Let him know we’re here.”

It hadn’t been easy, since Merlin avoided all contact outside of class or rehearsals; even Arthur had pestered him to get to the bottom of this. Arthur was admittedly egotistical, but if he pulled his head out of his ass long enough, he could be quite observant toward the people he cared about.

Gwaine delicately drew his phone from his pocket so as to not wake Merlin. The message was from Arthur: _I know what happened. Is Merlin with you?_

_Yep. Finally got him to sleep. What was it?_

Arthur’s reply was instant, but guarded. _I trust you, but it’s bad. I’m keeping it in the strictest confidence. Only the necessary people are allowed to know for this mess to be resolved._

_Sure, sure. How bad are we talking?_

His brows lifted at Arthur’s reply: _Someone with tenure is getting sacked. Don’t tell Merlin I know._

_Haha, how can I when I don’t know what there is to know?_

_Good man._

Gwaine smirked and stuffed the device into his pocket. “You’ve got the prince of the school watching over you, mate,” he whispered into Merlin’s dreams. “You’ll be all right.”

The next day, Gwaine managed to get Merlin to the café for lunch. It was only him, Merlin, and Gwen, the latter of whom gently laced her fingers with Merlin’s under the table while she laughed conversationally with Gwaine. It wasn’t a flirtatious gesture, just a gentle pressure on his hand. The Thursday afterward, however, Merlin felt cold droplets of sweat slick down the ravine of his spine as he made his way to chemistry. Morgana was there, and she embraced him in a one-armed hug with a kiss on his cheek despite his clammy sweat.

Arthur was nowhere to be found. Not that Merlin was surprised; Arthur had skipped twice before, a third time was hardly a grievance, but as the minutes ticked by, getting closer and closer to class time, Merlin grew antsy at not having someone on his other side. He was so accustomed to having a Pendragon on either side of him, the lack of one made him shiver, feeling cold and vulnerable.

A minute before class, a presence entered the room, and Merlin automatically slumped his shoulders, trying to become one with the floor despite the distance the high lab chair created—

“Good morning, everyone. My name is Mr. Cenred, I will be your sub today.”

His head perked up, observing the tall man with a pony-bun who was causing energetic whispers to stir among the girls of the room. Merlin glanced at the door, which was closed, and back at the teacher, who was certainly not Agravaine. Within the span of thirty seconds, he’d changed the atmosphere of the room and had the class laughing over some joke about the dung beetles they would be working with today. Merlin peeked at Morgana to gauge how she was feeling towards her uncle’s absence, but she merely let her laughter transfer into a smile at his inquiring gaze.

Despite Arthur’s absence, it became without a doubt, the best chemistry lesson Merlin had experienced. Mr. Cenred proved amiable, knowledgeable, and hilarious when he dived across the floor to catch an escaped scarab or undoing his hair in front of the fan for theatricality billowing hair and flapping lab coat like a cape.

“Where is Arthur?” Merlin ventured after class while Morgana walked him across campus. Their exhalations fogged in front of their faces in the brisk, November air.

“Oh, you know him. He’s got some things to attend to,” she answered ambivalently.

The corners of Merlin’s mouth fell with concern. “He’s not in some meeting for his father, is he? Uther shouldn’t prioritize his inefficiency with bureaucracy over Arthur’s education…”

Morgana stopped on a dime and pivoted to look at him. Merlin felt like he was the one under a microscope, now. She peered at him long and hard, until she said with a baffled, stymied tone, “Incredible. Maybe he’ll actually deserve you after this.”

She resumed her pace, leaving Merlin staring vacantly after her. “Huh? After what?” he exclaimed, catching up with her against the bite of cold wind on his cheeks.

“Hm? Did I say something? Oh, hello, Guinevere!” she chimed innocently, leaving Merlin in his confusion to greet Gwen passing by with Lancel. Left in his puzzled state, Merlin trudged his way into the shockingly warm art building, where Gwaine was using the heat to his advantage in the form of melted chocolate over his mother’s kiwi tartlets. He promptly crammed one into Merlin’s mouth.

Several hours later, Morgana stormed into the house, yanking Arthur out of his concentration over a pile of paperwork on the coffee table. She arrived before him with a breeze of warm silk and lilac in her wake. “You better have results, Pendragon, because Merlin needs this. Somehow, he’s more concerned with you overworking yourself in Uther’s campaign. Is the bastard sacked yet or not?”

Arthur groaned, his eyes scarlet around the rims. “The fucking board needs to have about a thousand meetings before they can sack somebody. Something about precedent or protocol, I don’t fucking care. I’m half tempted to get Father involved. Any notion of shaming Mom’s memory might scare the trustees into action.”

Morgana’s expression opened. “That’s not half baked.”

Arthur lifted his exhausted gaze. “You’re half baked.”

“No, be serious!” she reasoned, sweeping forward to sit beside him. “If we approach Uther with this correctly, he will do everything for us. Agravaine will be gone by the end of next week.”

Her brother frowned, visibly wanting any shred of hope she provided but still skeptical. “Morgana, he hired Agravaine himself. What might it do to have his choice of employee defiled?”

“He defiled himself,” she growled. “Let Uther clean up the sick mess.”

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his eyes, which strayed toward his already frazzled hair. Morgana knew the ominous expression anywhere. “What else is there?”

He sighed. “The board wants to interview Merlin. They want a personal account from him, as if the video, the trash bag full of the broken laboratory equipment—the test tube with the _man’s blood on it—_ aren’t enough!”

Her sleek brows rose slightly. Arthur had gone dumpster diving without her knowledge, but this was beside the point. Ever so gently, she uttered, “Which would Uther dislike more: his in-law's perversions coming to light at the height of his campaign, or squashing it quietly within the college?”

Arthur snorted a chuckle, perceptive to his sister’s tricks. “Be sure to bring that up when the storm comes.”

And oh, did it come.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” Uther bellowed at the screen in their living room.

Arthur pressed his eyes shut against the abuse on his eardrums and said patiently. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

Uther fixed enraged eyes on his son. “YOUR MOTHER’S BROTHER ALMOST RAPING A STUDENT?”

Morgana sighed from his other side. “Obviously…”

“Wait a moment,” Uther commanded, rewinding the footage. Arthur failed to suppress his grimace. He’d already watching this enough times, he didn’t need more of it. Thankfully, Uther paused it when Agravaine and Merlin were standing apart from one another, their profiles visible to the camera. “This is the Emrys boy.”

Arthur felt the digging gaze of his father on him. “Is this about your uncle or that boy?”

Arthur felt some of the blood drain from his face but he stood tall, matching his father’s height. “This is about the abuse of a student. Yes, I was alerted to this because Merlin is my friend and his behavior has been entirely abnormal after last Wednesday, but it does not matter who was involved! A teacher has laid his hands forcibly on a student. As a dean of a respected and honorable institution which is supposed to be taking the safety of its students and money pits seriously, _what are you going to do about it?”_

He reared a step back, winded by his tirade and also anxious for Uther’s response. For an oddly peaceful moment, the man simply gazed at his son, as if mildly stunned by his outburst and challenge. Arthur held his stare, trying to appear calm and steady versus the desperation raging in his core.

He was never more thankful for his sister than in that moment. “Father,” she said tranquilly. “This is more than an attempted rape. Since our uncle was willing to do this…I fear for Merlin’s grades. I don’t think Agravaine is above maintaining an objective outlook toward a student who not only scorned him, but also raked a broken test tube across his face. Plus, with Arthur and me in the class, the integrity of his entire grade book will be under debate. As a formerly trusted member of the staff, as well of this family, he’s becoming a festering sore to everyone around him.”

She paused briefly, tactfully letting her words sink in. “I’m sorry this came at such a pivotal time, but this needs your attention immediately.”

Uther’s brow furrowed deeply as he gazed between his children. “Do either of you believe your grades have been compromised?”

Arthur caught on, “We don’t need to assume. Merlin, Morgana, and I work together. We turn in the same work. If our grades do not match his, than the evidence will be clear.”

He could see the decision playing out on Uther’s face, and Arthur wondered if it was his fatherly prerogative or his hubris which tipped the action in their favor. Uther shook his head, “Your mother, may she rest under the stars, loved her brother, but I never favored him. When we first dated…to think his attentions might have been _flirting…_ Well, the first time I put him in a headlock surely changed his mind. You have already introduced this to the board?”

Arthur and Morgana exchanged shocked and disgusted glances behind his back before he turned to face them. “Yes, but they are hesitating,” Arthur provided. “I have already shown them the video, they all know about the bandage Agravaine is wearing, and I have even given them the test tube used as defense. They want a confession from Merlin.”

“And why can’t he provide it?” Uther inquired.

“Because he has _nothing to confess to._ Merlin has the right to silence and dignity,” he countered. “He is still recovering from the wine he drank for me—”

“Nothing yet on that front?” Uther interrupted angrily.

Arthur exhaled for patience. The issue here was Agravaine, not Cedric, so he lied. “No, Father, not yet. The point is, there is an abundance of proof in front of their faces, and they are not doing anything about it.”

“I do not see why Mr. Emrys cannot simply stand before a small group of people and admit that he is the one in this video,” Uther argued.

Arthur’s nostrils flared, ready to snap. Morgana intervened, “Father, Merlin Emrys is the paragon of the arts in the Pendragon campaign. Any stain on him is a stain on us. It will hardly take any digging for someone to realize who put their hands on him, and who that person is related to.”

“Enough,” Uther raised a hand, as if to physically halt her words. “Arthur, come with me. I am calling an immediate consultation with the board, and not a single member of the trustees is leaving until this matter is resolved.”

He stormed out the front door with his cell phone to his ear, leaving an exhausted but hopeful Arthur behind him. Morgana fell gracefully into a chair and waved him out, “Don’t keep him waiting, golden one. You can buy me my Christmas gala gown as thank you.”

Arthur rushed forward, smacked a wet kiss on her cheek, and ran out the door with his USB, the sole copy of the horrid incident. That evening, neither Uther nor Arthur returned home, nor the Friday afterwards. Morgana managed to stuff food into Arthur’s mouth when he returned Saturday morning before he collapsed on his bed.

Come Tuesday morning, she waited patiently for Merlin to enter the classroom. He entered as he had the last two courses: head down, willing himself to be invisible. “Morning,” he mumbled without seeing her.

“Good morning, sweetie,” she chimed softly. “You know, the Pendragons are invited to a Christmas party in mid-December. It’s right after finals. I think you might be amused to know I’ve dragged Arthur to every boutique in this city over the last Sunday and Monday afternoons.”

He finally peered up at her. “Why would you make him do that?”

She shrugged elegantly. “I did him a series of favors, and a sibling must pay to my pipe. Truth be told, I don’t think he hated it as much as he complained about it. I caught him perusing the tie selection. Do you think a straight tie or bowtie would suit him best?”

“Um…” Merlin murmured. “Depends on the suit.”

“It’s a tux,” she provided offhandedly, although she suppressed an obvious grin when he swallowed audibly.

“For Christmas…a bowtie,” he decided.

She let her grin shine through. “I agree. Speaking of, hello, Arthur!”

Merlin’s head swiveled around to witness Arthur dropping his bag heavily on the counter, taking his seat, and immediately hugging it to his chest as a pillow. “Erm…are you okay?”

Arthur opened one eye, the usual bright blue darkened by fatigue. “Yeah…I’m okay, Merlin.”

He jerked again when a body swept through the door, but he gasped relief as well as perplexity at the sight of Mr. Cenred with a massive box under his arm. “Good morning! Good morning, all! I have an announcement: from this day forth, although admittedly there won’t be many this late in the semester, I will be your professor. Now, to celebrate, I have a box of doughnuts here, because I am a chemist, not a dentist. So let the sugar commence.”

Merlin gaped, not believing his ears until Arthur poked his side. “Maple glazed,” he commanded, not rising from his nylon pillow.

Lost for words, he slid off his seat to follow Morgana to the box of treats in the front of the room. “Where’s Agravaine?” he whispered worriedly.

Morgana glanced at him with an open, innocent expression. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Oh! Coconut sprinkles!”

Merlin frowned, watching her keenly and casting a suspicious glance over at Arthur while he plucked out the desired doughnut from the box. Upon returning, Arthur’s eyes opened and he finally lifted his torso in order to poise the doughnut before his mouth... “Merlin. Why don’t you have one?”

He met Merlin’s intelligent, curious gaze with a similarly innocent expression. “It’s too much sugar in the morning,” he responded evenly.

Arthur frowned and haughtily tore his pastry in half, flipping Merlin’s palm up so the sticky mass attached to his skin. “There, half the sugar. Eat. And perk up for gods sake.”

“I was just telling him about the gala in a few weeks,” Morgana agreed jovially, licking a bit of jelly off her forefinger.

“Ah. Right,” Arthur remembered, and then abruptly informed, “You’re coming.”

“Hhrm?” Merlin exclaimed, caught with the pastry in his mouth.

“No excuses,” Arthur countered, tapping the pad of his finger against Merlin’s nose. “And it’s formal so you’ll have to get a tux.”

“Grrrmph…” Merlin groaned.

Arthur chuckled smugly. Everything was back to normal.


	12. To the Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis the season for awkward tidings, falalalala lala la la.

Gwaine and Lancel were beside themselves when Merlin revealed that he needed to rent a tuxedo. So naturally, they insisted on getting fitted instead of studying for exams.

“The Christmas parties are must-hits every year!” Gwaine reasoned. “We have to look the part!”

“They’re actually quite wonderful,” Lancel assured as he held the door for Merlin to enter the establishment: _Royale Silks and Raiment._

“Is the title of this place a precursor to their pricing?” Merlin worried as he sighted a pine scented candle flickering on the reception table. A slim, blond gentlemen greeted them, and two other employees came out of the woodwork to assist the three of them with their fittings.

Merlin’s assistant was a shorter man with shortly cropped auburn hair that might have been wildly curly if he let it grow. He whistled quietly as he measured the length of Merlin’s leg. “You’re a thin one. Do you have any ideas for what you’d like to wear?”

He shook his head. “Something simple. Classic. Something a penguin would aspire to wear.”

The assistant laughed and uttered, “Well, you may be skinny, but you’ve got the shoulder width and legs a tailored tuxedo would show off nicely. Your friend mentioned it’s a Christmas party you’re going to? You’ll be able to deck the halls with lady suitors once we get you situated.”

Merlin refrained from laughing aloud and let the man bring him a series of tuxedos to try on. He did not disappoint: Merlin quickly caught on to the label names such as Armani, Dior, and Vera Wang.

As soon as he slipped on one of the latter brands, Merlin knew he’d found the one. It was a deep, matte onyx that seemed to taper along Merlin’s waist without being tailored. The sleeves were a bit long, but the cuffs as well as the slim lapels simmered slightly with ebony silk. The way the light played off the material made Merlin’s sapphire eyes pop, and correlated with his hair and pallor nicely.

“Did you find it?” Lancel smiled while they waited for Gwaine.

Merlin nodded but his eyes caught on a discarded rack outside of Gwaine’s dressing room. “Are those all his?”

Hanging from the personal rack were grey suits, black tuxes, solid white ones, even one as crisply blue as glaciers. Lancel chuckled. “He takes these events seriously.”

When the man finally emerged, he unloaded five more tuxedos onto the rack before handing a tag over to the assistant. “This one. Take it before I change my mind!”

Lancel nudged Merlin’s arm. “Have you chosen a tie?”

“One already comes with mine, but I was thinking of wearing my red scarf with it.”

Lancel’s head tipped to the side contemplatively, but his gaze immediately alighted on Gwaine, who appeared shocked by an epiphany. “A _scarf!_ I never even _thought_ of that! We’d look like we were going to the opera!”

His assistant seemed like he was caught between Gwaine and a hard place. The former snapped out of his reverie and waved him away. “No! No, I’ve decided. Merlin’s the singer, he can be the one to look like one. By the way, Percy mentioned auditions coming up?”

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded while he found his wallet, “the a cappella managers are graduating in December, so we need to fill their places. Were you interested?”

“I think I might be,” Gwaine percolated. “Stay tuned.”

Merlin giggled. “Auditions are next weekend.” When it was Gwaine’s turn to pay, Merlin inquired of Lancel, “Since you’re coming…does that mean everything’s okay with you and Arthur?”

Lancel inhaled deeply, and then answered, “It doesn’t mean we’re _not_ okay. Gwen’s not invited, but she understands. I think Arthur was big enough to invite me; whatever you said in the hospital must have really broken through.”

Merlin chuckled. “I didn’t say much. I just reminded him who his friends are. He’ll forgive Gwen eventually…or not, it’s hard to say. I’m glad you’re coming, though. At first it sounded like it would be me with the Pendragons, but it’s a comfort knowing you’ll both be there.”

Lancel guffawed. “It wouldn’t be that bad without us. The Christmas galas aren’t political events. They’re genuinely parties with posh snobs testing how much champagne their stomachs can handle. It’s like dinner and a show for us.”

“Merlin,” Gwaine caught up with them, bumping their shoulders as he squashed himself into their conversation. “I have a film project I want to do, but I need your input. Lancel, you’re a part of it.”

“Oh?” he chimed with intrigue. While Gwaine explained what he wanted to do, they boarded the tram heading back towards campus. Merlin was partially listening while he had his own camera out, snapping pictures of the first snowflakes during the sunset and the lights of businesses flickering on like fairies’ wings, only to be interrupted by a text.

 _Where are you?_ Arthur queried.

_On the tram with my roommates. Why?_

Merlin read the reply with deadpan eyes. _The tram? The tram’s more expensive than the metro._

_Not by much, and the view is better. It’s snowing._

_Well hopefully the rails don’t ice over before you get here. Morgana’s hosting a study session and the house reeks of butter and garlic. Bring Gwaine and Lancel if you must._

Merlin unconsciously let Gwaine take his camera off his shoulder as he read the message, hearing it click in the background as he peeked out the window to gauge how much longer the ride would be.

_Fine, Highness. About twenty minutes._

He told his roommates the situation and they agreed to come with the enticement of a free dinner. They alighted at their stop and walked the rest of the way into Arthur’s neighborhood. Gwaine drummed an obnoxious rhythm on the door until Arthur whipped it open. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he exclaimed.

Gwaine grinned benevolently. “There’s a list, darling. I title it ‘My Delicious Vices.’ So what’s dinner?”

He danced passed and Arthur’s eyes locked on Lancel. They shook hands stiffly but his gaze was warm. “Not too cold for you is it?” Arthur asked.

Lancel chuckled. “Why? You’re not planning to leave me outside, are you?”

A guilty smile threatened to curve the side of Arthur’s mouth. “Don’t tempt me. Until then, get in here. You’re letting all the heat out.”

Merlin hopped on the stoop, only to halt with Arthur’s hand splayed on his diaphragm. He glanced from Arthur’s hand to his face, and his features went from confusion, to shock, and then annoyed disbelief. “You wouldn’t.”

Arthur guffawed as his fingers clawed into his jacket, yanking Merlin into the house. “I'm joking. Your ears are red and the scarf is up to your nose. I invited you here, remember?”

Merlin felt warmth eclipse the cold in his jeans when the door closed. Arthur stepped forward to unwind his scarf as he retorted, “I wouldn’t call it an invitation so much as an order.”

The blonde’s nose wrinkled in a silent dismissal. “Details.”

Merlin’s eyes widened slightly when the scarf was draped around Arthur’s own neck for the meantime, while he unzipped the leather jacket. Merlin became hyper aware of Arthur’s fingers slipping beneath the collar, and how his warm palms pressed over his shoulders to push the garment off. All too soon his hands were gone, and Merlin felt oddly colder than he’d been outside.

Arthur hung his things up on one of the pegs and glanced back to laugh at Merlin’s oversized, blue knit sweater. “I know what to get you for a gift, Merlin: properly fitting clothes.”

“What do you mean? It fits fine,” he rebuked, following to the kitchen.

Arthur rotated to fix him in an amused, albeit dubious look. He plucked alternate sections of the garment as he explained, “It overlaps your belt. You would have to roll the sleeves to fit—see? They’re slouchy. And I can see your undershirt because the collar is dragging toward one shoulder. Why are you wearing two layers, anyway?”

He was fixing the sweater over said undershirt while Merlin responded, “It’s _snowing._ Normal people wear layers. Human furnaces like you don’t need to, I guess.”

Arthur did not seem to be listening. His eyes lazily crawled up Merlin’s neck, fingertips stroking over the scars on his nape before he plucked the spectacles off his face. “You’re a mess,” he exhaled while Merlin sighed, lost without his vision. He could hear Arthur breathing on the glass before he wiped them with the microfiber cloth he’d seen sticking out of Merlin’s pocket.

His head was bowed and he was scratching his hair to the side when he startled at Arthur’s touch on the side of his head, urging him to look up. Those hands briefly grazed his face as he slid the glasses over his ears and Merlin once more had a view of Arthur's supple, pink lips. Merlin’s lashes flicked up to find Arthur’s eyes on his as he turned back toward the kitchen. Breathing heavily, he briefly remembered the sensation of those lips seeking his, and the taste between them…but just like Arthur’s hands, all too soon the memory was gone.

Dinner consisted of buttered garlic rice, marinated lotus roots, white asparagus, and steak for the ‘carnivores’, as Morgana called the others while she and Merlin did without steak.

“Mmm, the roots are really good,” Merlin approved. “Where did you find lotus roots this time of year?”

“China town on the east side of downtown had them,” she chimed happily. “I’m glad you like them. Arthur’s refuses to eat them since he believes they are not of this world.”

Merlin giggled without looking up, skewering another slice of root. “I haven’t had these since I visited, so this is wonderful.”

Arthur’s head perked up. “You traveled to Asia?”

He nodded. “Years ago, for two and a half weeks. It was on an art scholarship.”

“Wow,” Arthur admitted, “and here I was, thinking you were some country bumpkin frolicking amongst the flowers.”

“Where else have you been, Merlin?” Lancel wondered, intrigued.

He sucked in his bottom lip when he withdrew his fork, moistening the plump flesh before he chewed and counted silently on his fingers. When he nearly finished on his second hand, Arthur pushed them beneath the table. “Enough of that. I can’t believe you’re more traveled than an international relations major.”

The table shared a laugh before Merlin consoled, “You can look into _Avalon Shores._ They have several branches dealing with environment, humanities, even political realms, and they have internships year round that enable you to travel.”

Arthur absorbed this and tumbled it in his mind before Gwaine interrupted, “Mmph,” he swallowed, “speaking of, in a way that is in no way related to traveling…why does your house smell like burnt plastic?”

The three guests glanced between the siblings with puzzled expressions since Morgana laughed merrily and Arthur smirked at his steak. The former answered, “We had a little mishap earlier. Somehow a USB fell into the fireplace.”

“Plastic burns, as do flash chips and thin strips of metal. Who knew?” Arthur purred.

“There wasn’t anything important on it, I hope?” Merlin worried.

Arthur shoved his head and just as quickly pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Don’t cry over burnt plastic, _Merlin.”_

His lashes fluttered heavily at the feeling of Arthur’s lips brushing his temple. When Arthur released him, he stared adamantly at his food instead of the knowing looks from Morgana, Lancel, and Gwaine.

The study session consisted mostly of the Pendragons and Merlin going over their chemistry notes while Lancel and Gwaine played video games. When it came time for the three of them to leave, though, Merlin discretely sniffed his scarf as he wound it over his face, but it was not on Arthur long enough to catch his scent.

Over the next couple of weeks, the gang did not spend too much time together since Merlin, Percy, Leon, and Eli had holiday performances and everyone was busy with final projects. The chaos of hell week finally subsided with Merlin announcing to Gwaine that he’d made it into the a cappella group, for which they celebrated at the pub. Lancel and Merlin enjoyed the display of Gwaine demonstrating to no one in particular how he’d won the managers over, before Merlin let slip one of the main reasons he’d been accepted:

“He sounds great,” he assured Lancel, “but his energy kind of intimidated them at first. I think they were more willing to bring him in once they knew one of the managers could handle him.”

Gwaine overheard and sloshed his beer across the table as Lancel realized, “Wait, one of the managers, meaning you? Did you get promoted?”

Merlin opened his mouth while nodding, but Gwaine’s guffaw overshadowed him as he yanked Merlin into a jostling hug. “HA ha! Merlin, this is incredible! That’s teamwork. Between the two of us, we’ll rise to the top!”

Merlin only just managed to keep his glasses from falling off his face. Lancel saved him by distracting Gwaine with, “It’s great how you’re not bothered by this. Don’t get me wrong, you deserve the spot and more, but other guys wouldn’t have taken so well to the, well, circumstances of it.”

Gwaine shrugged. “Doctors have been trying to stuff me with ADHD pills forever. But la mia mamma said, ‘NO. My son has the spirit of a fire cracker, and I am NOT paying those greedy—insert euphemism here—pharmaceuticals for something he does not need!’ Sure, I changed my major eight times, but I’m still graduating on time! Behold the power of my fire.”

Lancel and Merlin snorted laughter and sang with Gwaine all the way back to their dorm. The following week was relaxing in how it only consisted of their exams while classes were officially cancelled. Both Merlin and Arthur’s final exam was in chemistry, the morning of the Christmas gala, so when Arthur finished his test, he waited for Merlin outside of the room to go over the itinerary for their evening.

“Your last tuxedo fitting went well?”

Merlin sensed Arthur’s emotions and replied, “Yes, it’s draped across my bed as we speak. What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not nervous,” he refuted.

“Arthur.”

_“Merlin.”_

“It’s all right to be nervous,” he reasoned, “but it’s officially the holiday season. I don’t know what’s bothering you.”

They paused in the lobby of the science building for Arthur to shrug into his parka. Merlin liked how the cool silver of it made him look like he was wearing armor; his blue irises popped and his hair shone more like golden wheat than ever.

“I’m waiting for a confirmation letter, is all,” he informed.

He held the door open long enough for Merlin to breeze through first. “Confirming what?”

“It won’t matter if I never get it,” Arthur declined to answer. Merlin drew his hood over his hair, far enough to shield his ears from the cold. Their shoes left prints in the thin dusting of snow on the flagstones. “Are you riding with me to the gala?”

“No, Gwaine and I are driving in Lancel’s Land Rover, in case the snow piles up while we’re there.”

“Fine, but don’t be late. Last year Gwaine took an hour and a half to get ready.”

Merlin laughed, remembering the array of suits hanging from the rack. “Lancel and I will get him to the ball.”

“See that you do.” They split ways, Arthur toward his car and Merlin to his dorm to finish packing for his impending internship and to help his roommates pack up their belongings for tonight.

Lancel’s car nearly did not have room to accommodate the three of them as they drove and parked on Arthur’s street. Morgana opened the door and quickly moved out of the way for the men to haul in their tuxedos and Gwaine’s camera equipment. “Where’s the blond dragon?” Gwaine wondered, holding a camera poised on his shoulder.

Morgana giggled as she moved a lock of curls out of the way of the lens. “He’s getting ready at the Avalon Library since Father is giving a speech tonight and wanted to go over it with Arthur.”

Merlin was setting up the ironing board to make sure his scarf folded flat and crisp under his lapels when he noticed the odd piles of paperwork on the coffee table. “Morgana? Why are you reading about ‘Homeless LGBTQ Teens’?”

She entered the living room with a puzzled brow before she laughed, “Oh, those are Arthur’s. He had to write a final paper for his Cultural Sexuality class.”

Merlin straightened the papers and set them on the entertainment system so the pages wouldn’t get lost beneath all of their items. After his scarf was ironed, he steamed unwanted creases out of Lancel’s shirt while Gwaine went around setting up lamps for lighting and carrying his camera all the while.

“Oh yes, that’s the shot…” he murmured while Lancel was putting his shirt on. “Flex those pecks, mate.”

Merlin and Morgana guffawed in the other room, where Merlin was parting her hair on the side and making sure the silky waves and loose curls stayed pinned over one shoulder. Then, he was in the chair, and Morgana had scissors in one hand and a wet comb in the other. “It’s time for the world to see how handsome you are,” she declared.

“Agreed!” Gwaine announced behind her, entering with his camera.

“You’re never going to be ready in time,” Merlin chided, his eyes closed while Morgana snipped away at his mop of cowlicks.

“What are you saying? I’m half dressed,” Gwaine reasoned. “I want you holding the camera while I finish my top half.”

Merlin dared not look since he wasn’t wearing his glasses and he could feel whispers of hair falling past his nose and cheeks. After another few moments, Morgana’s hands ran through his hair, removing all the stray bits and combing mousse conditioner into it with her fingers. She placed his glasses on his face to reveal how she’d tapered the cut around the sides of his head and undercut, but kept the top and forelock long enough to style in a dashing disarray slightly off to the side. He actually did not look utterly different; his hair was just short enough so his eyes were more visible and his cowlicks could be tamed into gentle waves.

Taking the camera, he filmed Gwaine miraculously brushing his curls into retro waves and shaving before he buttoned his shirt and tied his bow. A white blazer went over his black trousers, waistcoat, and white shirt. Surprisingly simple, but he stood out wonderfully.

“Hang on! We have to have an epic exit before we go to the opera!” he declared as they were nearly out the door. They waited for him to set up three cameras from different angles before he ran inside and they filed out to naturally line up for a runway moment down the drive.

Once his project was finished, they piled into the Land Rover, newly vacated of equipment and tuxedo bags so it could accommodate the four of them.

The Avalon Library was easy enough to spot downtown since there was a massive line of cars leading to it along the street. Lancel parked in a remote parking garage, and they strode past the massively tall glass windows, behind which illuminated garland hung.

Inside was deceptively extravagant as each room was themed differently. The foyer was a twinkling winter wonderland, where they handed their coats to the cloakroom before continuing into the main gallery. Where the librarians had found the space to move the high bookshelves, Merlin did not know, but it allowed for the wide and long hall with its frescoed, vaulted ceiling to be adorned with Christmas trees in all four corners. Banquet tables clothed in gold and silver were weighted down by platters of sweets, a chocolate fountain, miniature meals such as quiche and small kebabs of honey roasted meats, and lastly an open bar in one corner.

“When in doubt, you’ll know where to find me,” Gwaine announced, making his way first to the bar and then along the tables lining the walls.

Lancel followed him while Morgana curled her arm with Merlin’s. “Come, let’s save my brother from whatever purgatory he’s landed himself in.”

He plucked a strawberry off a table in passing and dipped it under the curtain of chocolate in the fountain. Fortunately, the fruit was already in his mouth when Merlin’s shoulder bumped into someone.

“Of course, you’re by the dessert table,” Morgana scoffed when Arthur turned around.

“Of course Merlin’s trying to ruin my tux the minute he walks in,” he responded, popping a cube of chocolaty pineapple in his mouth. His chewing paused when he sighted Merlin’s attire. “Figures you’d wear a scarf.”

“It matches the season,” Merlin defended around his strawberry, straightening his crimson, arabesque scarf.

Morgana chortled, “Well, obviously I am not needed here. I’ll be wherever the pasta is.”

Arthur frowned after her, eyeing her asymmetrical crimson gown. “The two of you match. Was that planned?”

Merlin’s eyes widened comically. “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to date your sister without permission—of all the Pendragons, including herself?”

Arthur’s grin curved to the side, causing Merlin to realize how nice he looked with his golden hair loosely brushed to the side instead of its usual disarray. “I’ll credit that much to you. I’m surprised everyone in here is not wearing red or green…”

“Who gave you this?” Merlin curtailed, fingering the soft, indigo-silver fronds of the pussy willow, holly leaves, and the red camellia bud of his boutonniere.

“A gift from the library,” he replied, straightening the petite arrangement. “Why? Do you want one?”

“And if I did?” Merlin challenged.

“Then we’d match,” Arthur deduced.

“Heaven forbid you’re unoriginal,” he teased.

“Exactly,” Arthur nodded affirmatively, as if it were his idea. “Why fit in when you were born to stand out?”

“That’s Dr. Seuss.”

“You just can’t let me have anything, can you?” Arthur rebuked, causing Merlin to laugh merrily.

“Keep your boutonniere,” he assured, “I just wasn’t expecting you to have a date.”

The blond head bowed almost bashfully. “No, no date this time. Although, since I asked you…”

His words faded as he realized what he was saying. Merlin salvaged, “But you didn’t ask me. It was more like an order.”

“Right!” Arthur picked up, visibly anxious. “Right, therefore this couldn’t be a…such a thing.”

Merlin politely refrained from rolling his eyes. _Heaven forbid Arthur Pendragon asks me out on a date._ “Am I supposed to mingle at this thing?”

Arthur winced. “I’ve been avoiding it like a plague. Where are the others? Safety in numbers.”

Merlin guffawed and found Lancel and Gwaine. Arthur walked with his hands in his pockets, his shoulder occasionally brushing Merlin’s while they crossed the gallery. While he greeted the others, Merlin allowed himself a moment to take a step back and really _look_ at Arthur. His tuxedo was crisp and slim; minimal padding was needed to emphasize his shoulders, and the dinner jacket was cut expertly to show the curve of his waist and narrowness of his hips. His tailored, black trousers accentuated his long legs and pert posterior, and his patent leather oxfords made for a nice finish. Merlin especially liked the sharp wings of his collar, folded as if they were pointing down at his bowtie.

He rocked from the balls of his feet back onto his heels, reminding himself that tonight was not an evening to be lusting after Arthur. He was still recovering from being abruptly single, and not only did Merlin have no desire to be another rebound, he did not know how Arthur honestly felt about him without a hearty dose of alcohol in his system. Merlin wanted to think that was Arthur in his most honest state, but this was an ideal, not a proven reality.

His feet rocked back a step, and then another, until he was meandering amongst the party guests. Merlin felt the same as when he was at the museum soiree: he was more interested in wandering the other halls, exploring what other frescoes the library had to offer—

“Oof! I’m so sorry!” Merlin exclaimed when he barreled into someone because his neck was craned toward the ceiling. His eyes widened as he realized he’d walked right into a grown man conversing with a group of people. Next, he was likely to have a plate of food scattered everywhere, or on his suit… “I’m really, sorry—”

“No worries! It’s quite all right,” the gentleman chuckled. “No harm done. On the contrary…I think you just saved me from mingling. I’m afraid they thought me rather boring.”

Merlin exhaled relief once he saw the man was not holding a plate of food, and his gaze lifted to see the group of people indeed scattering elsewhere, away from their collision. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin anything.”

The man grimaced comically, “Nonsense. I just told you, it’s fine. You saved me before I had to introduce myself. It’d be a horrible way for a CEO to make himself known as a bore.”

Merlin recoiled as if he’d just stepped into cold water. “CEO…of _Avalon Shores_?”

The man nodded innocently. “Yes. Seeing as it’s technically my library and I’ve got family in the area, I figured I might actually attend one of these functions. It’s healthy to stop traveling every once in a while.”

Merlin felt a silly grin blooming across his face. “I’m sorry if this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but I’m interning with your company this winter—the plane leaves tomorrow!”

The man surprised him by returning the goofy enthusiasm. “Is that right? I love meeting interns; you all have such energy and far more brilliant ideas than my team or I could ever create. With which branch are you interning?”

“The environmental zoology sector. I’m flying south to work with the propaganda team, learning about the exotic animals and their habitats, ailments, to create media for public distribution and awareness.”

The CEO chuckled merrily. “Wonderful. That sector could use people like you who sound like they know what they’re talking about. So many of them are hippies trying to play with tigers. They forget how the job requires a relative knowledge of chemical biology, and they blame us for boring them with laboratory hours.”

Merlin nodded, “I understand, but my university concentration is environmental studies.”

The CEO’s thick brows lifted. “Travel, the arts, and science. You’ve got quite the spectrum of interests. You remind me of someone very close to me—by the way,” his amber eyes dropped to Merlin’s tuxedo while his hand tentatively reached out to straighten his scarf, “this is a beautiful garment. I’ve seen something like this before.”

“Thank you,” Merlin replied, glancing down at the intricate arabesque pattern. “My father gave it to me.”

“Really?” he countered, intrigued. He retracted his hand and tipped his head thoughtfully. “I bought something incredibly similar to this during my travels through Turkey and Bali—I forget where, exactly—but I recall the vendor made these himself. There aren’t any other scarves like this in the world. I sent it back to my son—”

He blinked as if puzzled, and then his eyes widened as he looked upon Merlin with a fresh gaze. Merlin did the same, examining the man’s long, wavy hair caught between black and dark silver, trying to find a semblance of a reflection in that face.

“Is your name Merlin?” he inquired spontaneously, and the question felt like a rubber band snapped in Merlin’s face. He swallowed thickly and nodded.

Suddenly, the epitome of jubilation bloomed across his father’s face. “My god! I didn’t even recognize you!” He coughed, his expression jerking into abashment. “Erm, well, the last time I saw you, you weren’t conscious, nor in the best of circumstances,” the smile returned, “but look at you! Dashing and dapper. Your mother’s in town, isn’t she? Is she here?”

“No…” Merlin mumbled, still processing all of this. “I mean, yes, she’s in town, but no, she’s not _here._ I’m with—” He blushed hotly, thinking of Arthur and how this wasn’t a date. “—some friends. When you said you had family in town…?”

His father chuckled, embarrassed as he combed a hand through his shoulder-length tresses. “Yes, I was hoping to see her. And you, as it turns out. She’s been pestering me for years, but I thought I was hardly the father you deserved since I was constantly unable to make time to be with my family. I’m glad you’re here,” he finished, suddenly solemn.

“Why couldn’t you?” Merlin wondered as depths of angst resurfaced. He wanted an explanation.

His father inhaled deeply, his shoulders lifting almost like a shrug before he exhaled and replied, “Wrong priorities. I was neck deep in my company when I met your mother, and my head has been rolling ever since. When she became pregnant with you, she wanted a solitary place to raise you, and she always preferred a more stationary life, whereas I seem to be in a different location every week. I can’t stand living behind a desk, and leading an international corporation demands I live, well, internationally. Merlin, I don’t have a good excuse why I wasn’t there when you needed me all those years, but that’s the truth.”

For the years Merlin had been wondering where his father was, why he couldn’t take the time to deliver a simple birthday present himself; he would have believed his mother was buying the gifts if he hadn’t seen the copious letters his father wrote to her. Yet now, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the man, even though a part of him had been preparing to despise him the moment they finally met.

“Mom told me you were there…in the hospital,” he recalled quietly.

Those amber eyes were warm and intent on Merlin as he responded, “Every time you’ve ever been in a hospital, I’ve been there. When you were born, when you had to have your first glasses. You don’t remember, but I held you as the optometrist did the eye exam. And yes, I was in the hospital two years ago. My colleagues were less than happy with me since I let a hygiene deal regarding Indian cows fall through without an explanation, but I’ve always taken the first flight home. Speaking of, could you explain what happened in October? Your mother berated me when I arrived but never actually told me what happened.”

Merlin frowned. “When did you arrive?”

He did shrug this time, “It was one of the nights; you were sound asleep, of course, and I wasn’t waking you to deliver another shock. Your mother said you drank something intended for someone else? Mostly she was upset that I was late and unnecessary since the ordeal was taken care of…”

He rolled his eyes like only a jaded husband could. Merlin inhaled and explained tersely, “I saw one of my friends get pills dropped in their drink. He’s an important person and he was speaking with other important people…at the time, I didn’t know how to take the drink from him without causing a crisis.”

His father listened patiently, but for a moment he wore an expression which made Merlin wonder if he was about to be lectured for the first time in his life. Instead, however, his father said, “He must be an important person _to you_ if you were willing to drink it. Who is he?”

“Merlin.”

He startled when he realized Arthur had come up right behind him. Merlin felt a hand on his waist through the fabric of his tuxedo as Arthur approached alongside him. “Are you all right? You disappeared on us.”

His eyes lifted to Merlin’s father, and his arm tightened snugly around Merlin before he withdrew it to extend a hand. “Arthur Pendragon.”

His father’s eyes flashed with recognition and he accepted the handshake. “Happy Christmas, Arthur. Just call me Balinor.”

“And to you,” Arthur returned, glancing at Merlin. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” Merlin shook his head.

Arthur’s eyes lingered as if he were waiting for Merlin to give a silent plea for help, but when it didn’t come, Arthur relaxed and uttered, “I’ve only ever heard of one person being named Balinor. Quite a prestigious figure.”

The man guffawed, “Yes, I’m afraid my parents crawled out of an Old English novel and couldn’t come up with any modern names. Don’t tell anyone from _Avalon_ I’m here, though. I’m supposed to be reading a preservation contract for Chinese real estate, not celebrating holidays.”

Arthur laughed like he wasn’t expecting to find that amusing. Merlin empathized the befuddlement: it was difficult not to be charmed by the CEO. Arthur's attention was tugged across the room, however, and he informed, “My father is looking for me. I better go. I’ll speak with you both later on.” His hand dragged across Merlin’s shoulders as he left.

Balinor’s warm gaze landed on Merlin while a smirk curved his lips. “He’s attractive.”

 _“Dad,”_ Merlin whined involuntarily before he realized what he’d just said.

His father’s smirk grew into a beaming smile. “You don’t have to explain anything. I may be as straight as an arrow but I can recognize a pretty bulls eye when I see one.”

“Oh my god!” Merlin hissed. “You’re worse than Mom!”

Balinor laughed from his belly as Merlin’s complexion tried to match his scarf. When his mirth faded, he wondered, “Why do I get the impression there is unresolved tension between the two of you?”

His son sighed haughtily. “Because I’m tense and Arthur’s oblivious.”

Balinor frowned, puzzled. “Then why don’t you make him _not_ oblivious?”

Merlin squirmed under this interrogation. “Because he’s so far in the closet, I don’t think he knows were the door is.”

His father’s brows lifted as he rubbed the stubble emerging on his jaw. “Based on what I’ve heard about his father, it might be a matter of breaking the lock on the closet, not because Arthur is lost in it. _Avalon_ received a few calls a while back, some solicitors enticing us to fund the Pendragon campaign, but I didn’t find the platform as appealing as some of my colleagues did.”

“Because it isn’t appealing at all,” Merlin agreed. “It’s radically conservative. Uther’s right out of a medieval tome.”

“Have you met him?”

“Yes. He’s made it abundantly apparent that he is in charge of Arthur’s life and my place in it.”

Balinor laughed mirthlessly. “As I said. Break the lock.”

Merlin frowned. “How does one go about doing that?”

Balinor stepped beside his son so they could both peer across the gallery, where Arthur and Uther were discussing something beside a staircase branching off toward the opposite wings of the library. “Arthur seems immaculately in tune to his father’s demands. While this will serve him well if he ever works for a powerful employer, as a son, he will be happier and healthier if he flies on his own.”

“Thing is,” Merlin agreed, “his father is essentially his employer. Watching them interact…it’s hardly familial.”

Balinor hummed deep in his chest before he uttered, “I think Arthur is already reaching out on his own. I looked over his application personally.”

Merlin’s chin swiveled. “Application?”

His father nodded, meeting his gaze. “For an internship. It was sudden, and far past the deadline, but when the Pendragon name entered my office, I had to take a look.”

Merlin realized, “Arthur’s waiting to hear back from you. Was he not accepted?”

“Of course he’s accepted,” Balinor chuckled. “We had one spot left, and his resume is spectacular. He’s a bright young man. I couldn’t send out the acceptance letter fast enough.”

Their attention was drawn up to the landing of the stairs, where Uther was gathering everyone’s attention by clinking a fork against his champagne glass. “Oh, right, I heard he was giving a speech tonight.”

“Will it be worth hearing?” Balinor inquired.

Merlin considered that. “Arthur writes his speeches.”

“Hmm, let’s listen, then.”

“Good evening, good evening,” Uther quieted with a smile. “I know you all weren’t expecting to have to hear any speeches, so I will keep this blissfully short. My family and I have been attending the _Avalon Christmas Gala_ for many years, now, and it is long over due for us to voice our gratitude to the individuals who make this event possible. It has come to my attention that there are roughly two thousand lost and homeless adolescents in this city, but because of the contributions of everyone here, and of _Avalon Shores,_ those children have a warm bed and an even warmer meal in their stomachs this winter. Many of us might claim to remember our humble beginnings, but we’ve secretly grown comfortable on our pillows of success. This gala is an event to celebrate those victories, but also to remind us how, while we may be looking forward to the new year, others are not. I invite you to raise your glasses, or your plates, and give a toast to all those who are sharing _Avalon’s_ generosity, to those souls who look to us for a brighter year than the last.”

Balinor clapped softly with the others. “Not bad. He gets the attention for his campaign without explicitly giving a political speech.”

Merlin, however, stood with his arms crossed, watching silently as Uther descended the stairs to shake people’s hands like he was some kind of hero. Merlin felt Arthur’s presence beside him before he spoke. He was undoing the tight buttons of his cuffs as he said, “My chore of the evening is finished. Are the tiny pizza slices gone, yet?”

Merlin pivoted slightly to gaze at him. “What are you doing?”

Arthur’s demeanor changed with his tone. “What do you mean?”

“I saw the research you did on your coffee table. Uther has no idea who those two thousand people are, much less how they are homeless because their families cast them out like homosexual or gender queer pariahs.”

Arthur stared at him, his brow slowly furrowing. “Are you angry?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“I’m confused,” Merlin corrected, although in truth, he _was_ angry. “You could be doing so much more with your time than writing speeches for him, or scheming profits toward causes he doesn’t believe in.”

Arthur appeared as if he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or angry as well. “Merlin,” he said measuredly, “are you disappointed that I just tricked the pompous snobs in here to donate to a worthy cause, or that I used my father to do it?”

Merlin swallowed dryly, looking anywhere but Arthur. “I’m disappointed how you have to trick people at all. I’m disappointed that no one seems to know how much you give a damn. You’re better than every person here.”

Arthur was silent as his stern gaze immediately softened. Of all the things for Merlin to say, he wasn’t expecting those words. Merlin glanced at him, at Arthur’s parted lips and his heavy lashes blinking before he abruptly pulled Merlin into a loose headlock and guided him across the gallery. “Mmhrmph! Wharph are you phoing?”

“Don’t raise attention. I want a moment alone with you,” he hushed. Merlin followed blindly until he was released in the foyer. They were surrounded by blue and silver garland while snowflakes glittered over their heads. Arthur was rummaging in his interior pockets before he found what he was looking for: a remarkably long, rectangular box that had gone unnoticed inside his jacket. He held it out to Merlin.

Perplexed, he accepted the box and wriggled the lid off. Inside was a white, cashmere scarf with white silk dragons shimmering in the light. The dimness of the foyer played off the silk threads, making the dragons appear almost as if they were dancing along the fabric.

Merlin’s gaze perked up when Arthur stepped forward and slid the red garment off his neck to drape across his own. “Try it on,” he urged. “See how it feels.”

He did, removing it from the box carefully so it remained folded width-wise as he tucked it under his lapels. Merlin lifted the ends to his face, stroking his cheeks with the smooth material. “I…I wasn’t expecting to give you your gift until Christmas,” he admitted bashfully.

A sandy blond brow arched over his dubious gaze. “What, in the mail while you were away on your internship? No thank you, give it to me before or after you leave in person. But how is it? Do you like it?”

“Yes!” Merlin breathed. “Arthur, I…you didn’t have to do this for me. How much did this cost?”

“Sweet Christ,” he cursed, shaking his head. “It’s the holidays, Merlin. Perk the hell up.”

Merlin’s eyelids dropped to half-mast in annoyance but he peeked down at a long dragon slithering its way up to him, and he uttered, “Thank you. Happy Christmas, Arthur.”

He smiled, pleased. “Toss the box. It’s been digging into my ribs all afternoon.”

Merlin huffed a laugh and did so as he followed Arthur once more into the gallery—only to be stopped by Uther on his way out. “Mr. Emrys. I did not know you would be here. Might I have a word?”

He glanced after Arthur, who was obliviously talking with Lancel and Morgana. “Uh, sure.”

Uther turned to face him. “Are you enjoying your evening?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered, waiting for what he had to say. Uther never said anything idly. “Are you?”

“I am,” he responded pleasantly. “I was wondering if you remember what I said to you the night we encountered each other on campus.”

Merlin recalled the conversation with mixed emotions. “You asked me to stay by him, that Arthur needed friends he could trust.”

“Indeed,” Uther nodded once, “and while I have been pleased to know you’ve done this, recent events have made me question whether this is the best arrangement.”

Merlin felt as if a stone was hovering over his cranium. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Make no mistake, I am exceedingly grateful to you for keeping Arthur from drinking the wine, however the stunt with my brother-in-law…”

The stone plummeted. For several seconds, Merlin could see Uther speaking but he could not hear anything. If one of those snowflakes came down to skewer his skull, Merlin might not have minded in that moment.

His mind raced to catch up to Uther’s words filtering through the panicked haze in his brain. “…Arthur needs someone on whom he can rely on for support, not who will get himself as well as my son into trouble. Do you understand?”

“What sort of trouble?” Merlin heard himself ask mutely, far away.

Uther sighed like he was explaining how his children didn’t do the laundry. “My son and daughter somehow came into possession of security camera footage, and got it into their hands to extract justice.”

Merlin felt sick, like the world was tipping sideways without his center of gravity catching up, so all of his blood went in one direction. He was holding his breath when Uther stated, “They stumbled into a blockade and needed my help to break through it. However, as noble as my children try to be, they don’t need help getting themselves into trouble. Do you understand?”

He did. “You’re blaming me for what happened and you don’t want me around Arthur,” he reiterated bluntly.

Merlin was not sure if Uther chuckled or if it was the headache throbbing inside his skull. “I wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that, but yes, I wish for you to distance yourself while you learn how to take better care of your circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” he repeated like broken vinyl.

Uther angled his glare at Merlin as if he was simple. “Please. You can’t convince me to believe that you haven’t noticed how in love Arthur is with you.”

 _Just lie…_ “He hasn’t voiced this to me, sir.”

“This doesn’t surprise me,” Uther confirmed. “Arthur has more important things to be pursuing than the flame of a short candle. You’re an intelligent man, Mr. Emrys. I’m sure you will give him the space and time he needs to right himself.”

Merlin dropped his chin, and maybe it was gravity’s fault or the slight tremor he felt, but Uther took it as a nod. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Emrys. A tuxedo suits you.”

He continued on his original path out the door, where flakes were steadily spitting from the sky. Merlin wanted the cold, wanted the kisses of the sky to shake him from this dream, but to do so would mean to follow Uther, and he needed to be as far from him as possible.

Caught in his stupor, Merlin found himself back in the gallery, with Arthur suddenly waving something in his face. “Merlin! Pay attention!”

He realized it was Arthur’s phone he was trying to bring his attention to while Arthur read aloud, _“Congratulations, Mr. Pendragon,_ Avalon Shores _is proud to welcome you to our Winter Internship Program. We apologize for the short notice, but since our letter is still en route to your home, we are sending this confirmation e-mail with your flight information on the marrow…”_

The mobile dropped into his pocket while a jubilant Arthur shook Merlin’s shoulders. “My program is in the same location as yours! We’re both flying south tomorrow! I’ll take my gift anytime, since I’ll be sharing a flat with you for the next month,” he informed cockily.

“Oh,” Merlin breathed vacantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so effing looooooong, I must vent.


	13. High Maintenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of the internship goes smooth...ish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I didn't expect to get this to you all today! Sorry for the wait!

Merlin smiled when Gaius opened the door. “Good morning. I’m sorry it’s so early, I just wanted to say goodbye to my mom…”

His gaze lifted off of Gaius to see his mother entering the doorway with his father’s arm around her. For a split second, Merlin completely forgot he’d met the man just hours previously.

“Good morning, my darling,” she uttered, her voice warm with sleep as she stepped forward to hug him. “I hope you have a safe flight.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said quietly, and then he faced his father.

“May I?” he asked considerately, opening his arm.

Merlin’s eyes wandered between him and that arm before he nodded tentatively. Balinor stepped forward and enveloped him in his arms. Merlin wasn’t as tall as his father, so his cheek nestled on his collarbone comfortably.

“Do you need a lift to the airport?” he asked when he drew back.

Merlin shook his head. “No, I’m headed over to Arthur’s, now. Since we’re on the same flight, his sister’s taking us.”

His father nodded and extended a hand with a business card. “Here. As un-fatherly as it is, all of my contact information is on it. Um...I don't recommend passing my name around, since it isn't liked much in many social circles, even within my own company. There's a reason you and your mother use her maiden name. There will be international students with you, and I want you to have the best time possible, but keep my name out of it; I don't want you in trouble because someone has suffered from _Avalon_ 's less successful ventures. But if you need anything, so much as a blueberry scone, call me.”

Merlin coughed a laugh, accepting the card. “Thanks. You better have a scone ready in case I do.”

Balinor beamed and resumed his hold around his wife’s shoulders. They moved aside for Gaius to hug Merlin next. For some reason, it always surprised him how strong Gaius’s hugs were. “Stay safe for us.”

Merlin nodded against the white hair that smelled like sage and detergent. He promised to send out texts as soon as his plane landed, and then he carried his duffel around the corner to Arthur’s house. Morgana opened the door with a bushy bedhead and an apologetic smile. “Morning, sweetie. Arthur’s not awake, yet.”

The corners of Merlin’s smile inverted into a frown, although he couldn’t say he was surprised. Setting his duffel by his shoes, he hung his jacket while he asked, “Is he at least packed?”

Morgana giggled nervously. “He thinks so.”

Merlin marched up the stairs and closed his hand around the knob before he decided to knock first. When no answer came, he peeked into the room to make sure Arthur was clothed before swinging the door wide. A similar duffel bag rested at the foot of the bed, although it was twice the size of his and had wheels on one side. Without any further ado, he stepped onto Arthur’s bed, and started jumping.

“Arthur! We’re going to be late! Get up! Get up!”

The blond growled in his sleep and rolled onto his stomach with a pillow over his face. Merlin walked across his back from his shoulders to his ass, bobbing his knees so Arthur bounced. Merlin lifted a brow at his heels pressing into that derriere and declared, _“Arthur,_ if you don’t get up I will lie on you. My parts will meet with your parts.”

When nothing so much as a grunt or twitch of movement came, Merlin whipped the comforter off, revealing Arthur in a pair of pajama pants, and flopped on his back, causing them to bounce a final time as his body stretched along Arthur’s; butt on butt with his head lounging on Arthur’s shoulder. “If you don’t get up, I’ll leave without you and get another ride—”

Arthur rolled so Merlin unceremoniously landed on the mattress, and Arthur kept rolling so his arms encircled Merlin’s waist and his head rested on his ribs. A second later, though, he mumbled something like, “So bony…” and brusquely flipped Merlin over so his head could rest on the back of Merlin’s ribcage.

Merlin lifted himself onto his elbows and peeked back at the blonde using him as a pillow. He sighed, “Arthur, it’s two weeks ‘til Christmas, and the airport will be bustling with people.”

“So we’ll take the jet,” he answered sleepily. “Father’s already left. He’ll never know.”

Merlin froze, realizing, “He doesn’t know about this internship?"

“He can find out in his own time,” Arthur replied offhandedly.

Merlin’s glasses drooped askew when he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Straightening them, he shoved Arthur off of him and further off the bed. “He’ll find out sooner if you take his pilot and his plane somewhere. _Get up._ You can sleep on the flight.”

A soft snore rose from the carpet.

Merlin stood with his hands on his hips when Morgana entered with a bucket of water. “Desperate times,” she narrated, and upended the container. Merlin had never seen Arthur move so fast in his life. “I suggest you go through his things,” she suggested while her brother sputtered and wiped moisture from his face. “He’s never gone through an airport before.”

Merlin’s shoulders slumped. “Oh joy.”

While Arthur was in his adjoining bathroom getting ready, it took twenty minutes for Merlin to explain through the door why his massive duffel would not count as a carry-on bag, nor would his liquids be allowed through security if it somehow _did_ make it as a carry-on.

As he rummaged through the bag, Merlin extracted an entire sleeping bag. “There is no need for this. Camping equipment will be provided for us.”

Arthur scowled as he emerged from the bathroom. “I don’t know who’s used their equipment, nor in what state it’s in. Put that back, it’s coming—why aren’t you wearing it?”

Merlin’s head perked up. “What?”

“The scarf. You’re wearing the red one. Why not the white?”

“This has always been my travel scarf,” he defended. “The white one’s packed. I’m not risking getting travel stains on it.”

“What sort of travel stains?” Arthur scoffed. “From the details in the e-mail, you can’t even have red wine on this flight unless you pay for it.”

Merlin breathed for patience and hastily explained. “My dad gave me this scarf and I’ve always worn it when traveling. Shut up about it.”

That visibly took Arthur aback, and he frowned deeply. “Is this the first time you’ve spoken of your father? Why do I feel like you weren’t close to him…?”

Merlin shut his eyes as flashes of an autumn evening, stars, and flower fields danced across his eyelids. _Because I told you I’d never known him when you were swimming like a fish before you kissed me like a god._

“I mentioned him once. It wasn’t an important conversation, which is why you don’t remember it. Are you done packing? I’m not quite sure you’re ready for Antarctica, yet.”

Arthur scoffed, “We are not going _nearly_ that far south, and you’ll be thanking me when I prove to be prepared for the both of us.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll thank me when I get you through security after dumping half of this garbage.”

 _“Garbage?”_ Arthur whirled around.

Merlin hoisted fistfuls of cloth out of the bag and throttled them in midair. _“You don’t need cashmere sweaters where we’re going!”_

Another twenty minutes later, Arthur sat disgruntled in Morgana’s sleek, black twin of his Audi on the way to the airport. After going back and forth with Merlin, a third of his wardrobe had been evicted from the luggage, but he’d adamantly kept the sleeping bag despite Merlin’s best efforts to be rid of the heavy, double layered, waterproof bundle.

When they arrived at the drop-off point, Morgana hugged Merlin first while Arthur removed the luggage from the trunk. “A whole month…good luck,” she whispered.

“I’m going to further my resume, not to share that infernal sleeping bag with Arthur,” he scolded in a whisper.

Morgana smiled warmly with a roll of her shoulder. “Two birds,” and then she gathered her brother into an embrace as well.

Arthur made it through security smoothly with Merlin in front of him and the attendants calling out the procedures every two minutes. On the other end of it, however, when they checked the screens to see if their flight was on time, Arthur barked, “Boarding in an hour? What do they mean it starts boarding in an hour?”

“They mean that people will be allowed on the plane in an hour,” Merlin reiterated dryly. “Then about thirty minutes after that, it will be in the air.”

Arthur’s eyes bulged angrily. “We don’t leave for another hour and a half?”

Merlin huffed a laugh. “You’re going to faint when you see economy seating.”

He logged into the airport’s complimentary forty-five minutes of wifi to check his e-mail and doodle with his tablet and pen. Merlin’s eyes flicked up occasionally while his pen moved, observing Arthur with an ankle poised on his knee while he read from a book. Merlin also noticed how other travelers cast Arthur eager glances while they passed by or waited for their flights to start boarding. When Arthur stood to take a call, Merlin started a new page and outlined those shoulders, how the fabric of his white t-shirt creased with his shoulder blades and how his jeans fit snuggly or wrinkled in the right places.

The blonde was antsy by the time they queued for the ticket taker. As far as economy class went, though, Arthur only paused when he realized he’d come to his seat, and silently slid into it. Merlin suspected he favored saying nothing instead of proving Merlin right.

He paused when Arthur grasped his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“My seat’s two rows back,” Merlin replied, puzzled as to why Arthur was bothered.

“Oh…fine,” he answered cryptically. Merlin frowned quizzically and hoisted his rucksack carefully into the overhead bin. He and Arthur sat diagonally from each other across the aisle, the former placing his headphones over his ears until he was required to remove them for take off.

Merlin’s pocket vibrated and he read a message from Arthur: _You should switch with the person next to me. He smells suspiciously of gouda._

Merlin smiled and replied, _Buy some whine with that cheese._

_Merlin, this is an SOS. Get up here._

_Has anyone ever told you you’re high maintenance?_

_No. I’m delightful. Come here._

The overhead speaker _dinged!_ the telltale chime which meant a steward was about to tell them to put their items away for take off.

_Can’t. We’re about to leave. Turning my phone off._

He wiggled his fingers at Arthur’s glare. The flight was expected to be approximately three hours, so Merlin patiently waited for mobile devices to be usable, and replaced his headphones upon his head. The moment his eyes opened, he witnessed Arthur chatting with the person sitting across the aisle, with a steward, and when Merlin stood to use the lavatory, he did a double take at Arthur on the other side of the plane.

Merlin shook his head at no one. _It takes an hour to get him out of the house and now he can’t sit down._ He considered how it must be quite a change for Arthur: the man was used to multitasking a full course schedule, his father’s campaign, as well as one or two sports with a social life. Now he was totally free albeit the internship responsibilities, and even those were few. The winter program was designed for quick, intensive work and study, but outside of it, there was time for the holidays and activities.

Merlin washed his hands and dried them by combing his hair off his face so when he returned to his seat, the water kept his hair in place until the band of his headphones held it at bay.

He was sound asleep so quickly he did not awaken until his head lolled off the shoulder of his neighbor. “Hmmuh—oh! God, sorry, sor—Arthur?”

He clumsily pushed off his headphones while his eyes bulged as much as they could in his sleepy state. Arthur’s gaze turned to him innocently. “What are you doing here?” Merlin interrogated.

Arthur’s mouth smirked to the side. “You’ve been sleeping there for the past two hours, Merlin. You’re losing your touch.”

Fully awake now, he wondered which was worse, slumping against Arthur for the majority of the flight, or being so oblivious he hadn’t noticed his change in neighbor. Choosing to ignore both options, he rubbed his eyes as Arthur inquired more seriously, “What’s on your mind? We went through some wicked turbulence and you hardly roused.”

Merlin turned to him curiously. “Why didn’t you shove me off?”

Arthur’s eyes were on his book as he shrugged. “I didn’t mind. You were just sleeping. If you had started drooling on me, that might have been another matter.”

He glanced at his former neighbor now sitting in Arthur’s seat. “How did you get him to switch seats?”

“An aisle seat is more desirable than a middle seat,” Arthur explained vacantly, focused on the pages before him.

Merlin observed him, letting his words process before a deep blush heated his body from his cheeks to his core. Arthur charmed someone in order to sit next to him even though he was accepting a worse seat. As hot as Merlin was, he felt just as cold.

_You can’t convince me to believe that you haven’t noticed how in love Arthur is with you._

His glasses rested lopsided on his face while he rubbed his eyes harder, willing the bruised feeling of imminent tears away. Arthur must have noticed his demeanor was off, because he asked, “Is something wrong?”

Not looking at him, Merlin answered, “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Arthur made a sound of empathy. “I will be the same tonight. It’s only a matter of time before Father starts assaulting my mobile with calls.”

This was hardly the place to discuss this, but Merlin doubted his courage would last. “Why didn’t you tell him? Why did you apply for this so short notice?”

Those blue eyes lifted to meet his. Suddenly, Merlin’s heart was in his throat, and he hoped the lavatory was free for a quick getaway. “I heard what you said,” Arthur explained, “and thought it a good idea. I didn’t tell my father because it _was_ so short notice and he wouldn’t approve. He'll come around after a few hours to mull over how this is for my betterment.”

Merlin steeled himself and said, “Why did you choose the same intern branch as me?”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, “Why should I spend a holiday with a stranger?” Then, he shifted in his seat to face Merlin properly. “Are you upset I came?”

Merlin propped his head on his hand, simultaneously using it to shield his face from Arthur’s scrutiny. “No…of course I’m not, it’s jus—”

His head abruptly dropped when Arthur pulled his hand away. “Look at me. I want to see your face.”

Merlin’s breath caught somewhere in his chest. “I…I’m not angry…but your father doesn’t fancy me.”

Arthur blinked, his expression opening before it furrowed again. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he will probably get on his jet and come get you the moment he hears you ran off to an internship I put you up to.”

Arthur was quiet, absorbing that before he guffawed. “Merlin, you may be surprised to learn this, but there are quite a few people my father does not fancy. You are nowhere near the top of the list, and you hardly put me up to this. It was my decision, which you knew nothing about, and when it comes time to explain, my father won’t know you’re a part of this.”

It was Merlin’s turn to frown, and it furrowed deeper the more he processed Arthur’s words. “You’re not going to tell him I’m here?”

“No,” he confirmed. His focus returned to his book until he glanced at Merlin leaving his seat. He locked himself in the lavatory and leaned against the wall, puzzling. Merlin did not want to discuss his conversation with Arthur on a plane full of eavesdroppers, and he was not even sure what to do regarding that discussion in the first place.

Uther told him to stay away, which would have been easy enough a month apart, but then Arthur dropped the bomb on his head, and Merlin reckoned his own father had pulled some corporate strings to allow them to be roommates. Given alternative circumstances, Merlin would have thanked Balinor, but with Uther standing in the way… What was Arthur doing? Was he evading Uther so he could further his relationship with Merlin?

He shook his head, ridding his mind of these thoughts. Merlin had never been one for short flings, but with stunning clarity, he realized he did not want to be a secret. It did not matter whether Arthur liked him romantically or not; Merlin’s skin crawled at the notion of hiding in the dark, living under a blanket of lies.

Exiting the bathroom, he resumed his seat, but before Arthur could say anything, Merlin’s music was in his ears and his eyes were shut.

After the flight, Merlin hailed a cab while Arthur gathered their luggage. Checking his e-mail, Merlin supplied the address, and after a while, the pair found themselves in the lobby of a surprisingly nice apartment building. The lobby seemed cut from a hotel, but the flat Arthur opened was comfortable and cozy. Merlin and Arthur had their own bathrooms adjoining their rooms on opposite sides of the flat, while a spacious, modern kitchen opened to the dining and living area. Their flat was on the corner of the building, so the windows formed the corner of the living room, looking out over a balcony which connected Arthur’s room with Merlin’s on the outside.

Merlin was unpacking his things when a knock on the glass door drew him onto the balcony with Arthur. “Not bad,” the blonde approved, leaning his elbows on the railing while he looked out over the beach beneath them. A piece of paper crumbled when he held it out. “Do we have to attend this orientation schedule?”

Merlin recognized it as the same one he’d found on his dresser. “Might as well. It will make working with people easier once you’re integrated with them, and a dinner and brunch is provided. What is your schedule?”

Arthur retrieved a packet of papers from his room and sifted through the schedule provided. “Fridays through Sunday I’m free…I work in the morning and afternoons. The only changes in the pattern area a couple symposiums and a debate. You?”

“My weekends are the same,” he informed, “but I work mid-mornings and evenings. I have to accommodate extra hours in my own time for design work.”

Arthur plopped his papers on the balcony table. “Sounds like our schedules just miss each other.”

Merlin pointed out, “I’m working with the artists and scientists. You’re with the politicians and business administrators.”

He blinked against Arthur’s hand gently shoving his head. “Don’t be keen. The long weekends will give plenty of time for relaxing and torment.”

A sound akin to a growl rumbled in Merlin’s throat as he turned to exit the balcony. “Jolly for meEEP!”

He whirled around, smacking the hand that had just pinched his ass. “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”

Arthur looked about as shameful as a leopard with its kill—not in the least. “You’re so dour. We’re at the beach and it’s December.”

“We’re at the beach when it’s _not_ December! We live on the coast!”

“Yes, but it’s actually warm here,” Arthur reminded bluntly.

Merlin growled again. “Are you going to be an annoying prat this whole time?”

Arthur chuckled with a victorious smile on his face. “I like annoying you. You’re more alive when you’re fired up.”

Well Merlin had nothing to say to that, so before the flames in his cheeks could burn any brighter, he shut the door behind him and drew the curtain over it. His buttock still ached as he stuffed his raiment into the drawers and hung his scarves and leather jacket in the closet. He could hear Arthur’s balcony door shut across the flat and some rumblings beneath his feet when he dropped his suitcase on the floor.

When the door to the apartment knocked, Arthur beat Merlin to the door and revealed two young women similar to their age. “Hi! We’re sorry to barge in like this, but we heard there were other interns on this floor, and we saw you guys arrive. I’m Mithian, this is Freya.”

Arthur smiled and shook her hand, then the shyer Freya’s. “My name’s Arthur, and this— _that_ one hiding over there is Merlin,” he adjusted when he noticed Merlin standing back. He waved his flat mate over. “Come on, Merlin, women only bite if you give them a reason to.”

The young women giggled congenially. They were both brunettes, and Merlin knew beauty when he saw it. Already the taller one was examining Arthur like he was the dessert to a long awaited meal. Instead of jealousy, Merlin felt relief lightening the weight in his stomach; she seemed lovely and spirited enough to capture Arthur’s attention—

Merlin stepped forward and felt Arthur’s large hand slide over his shoulder, pulling him the last step to stand beside him. “What part of the program are you ladies working on?” Arthur inquired conversationally.

“Before you answer—” Merlin intercepted, “we haven’t been to the store yet, but can I get anyone a glass of water?”

He shrugged out of the circle of Arthur’s arm and strode to the kitchen. Arthur watched him go and stepped aside for their neighbors to enter. Mithian proceeded to answer how she was in Arthur’s program while Freya was with the scientists; the latter of whom surprised Merlin in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized with a kind smile. “I meant to help with those, not spill them.”

“It’s all right,” he laughed raggedly, shutting the freezer door. “I’ve only managed the ice so far.”

She responded with another smile and took a pair of the glasses for filling. The ice cracked and twittered as the water ran over them before Merlin supplied, “So you’re working with the chemists too?”

Her dark amber eyes perked up. “Yes, there is an epidemic harming panthers farther south which we are investigating. When are you in the lab?”

She and Merlin exchanged hours and learned they crossed paths in the mornings. They carried the glasses to the coffee table, where Mithian sat next to Arthur on the couch while Merlin and Freya took the overstuffed chairs. Merlin was raising his drink to his lips when he listened to Mithian ask if they had plans until the orientation dinner, to which Arthur replied, “Ah, well, Merlin and I really ought to stock up the place before we get too comfortable with provided meals. Right, Merlin?”

He paused, caught in the headlights. “Right…but you needn’t run off. I can go alone. I’m still buzzing from the flight anyway.”

He was on his feet and already approaching the door when Mithian apologized, “Oh please, I didn’t mean to put you to work the moment you arrived!”

Merlin’s mouth was open but Arthur’s voice filled the air. “It’s no trouble. We will surely see both of you tonight. I can’t let him go alone; his spindly arms would break hauling the groceries.”

Merlin’s mouth continued to hang open until he and Arthur were gliding down in the elevator. “Mithian likes you. You should stay here.”

Arthur peered at him. “And Freya likes you, or didn’t you notice?”

“She and I will be working together, and she’s shy. She’s glad to meet someone. Really, it’s just groceries.”

Arthur’s gaze watched the numbers of the floors decrease. “I’m already coming, Merlin. It will be good to learn the city.”

Merlin crossed his arms and leaned against the wall until the lift doors opened. The concierge had given them some general information about the city when they arrived, including the nearest tram station. Hopping aboard, they scanned their transportation cards provided by the program. The pair stood on opposite sides of the door. Arthur held onto the rail while Merlin leaned against his, reading something on his mobile. When their stop arrived, they strolled over the sidewalk and past a stop sign with a seagull perched on it.

“Were you always this quiet?” Arthur finally asked.

Merlin stared at him, puzzled before he admitted, “There is usually someone else with us. I didn’t have to do the talking.”

He breezed through the automatic doors, leaving a stymied Arthur trailing behind him. “That can’t be right…we’ve spoken plenty in the past, and it always came easily. We can’t already have nothing to talk about the _day_ we arrive.”

Merlin rotated to cast an even look over the trolley basket. “Is there something you want to talk about or are you frightened of silence?”

Now Arthur was the one caught in the spotlight of the question. His mouth opened, then closed, opened again, and closed as a weight filled his eyes. Merlin’s belly suddenly felt hollow, expecting Arthur to say something, a hint, a suggestion toward the last month and all of the drama that had ensued, or something else altogether. He did not realize his breath was held in his lungs until Arthur said, “You don’t even have a word to say about our lovely neighbors?”

Merlin left him with the potatoes and started filling the cart with produce. Arthur followed quickly. “Freya seemed a bit timid, but nice enough.” 

Merlin lifted a brow at the rhubarb he dropped into the cart. “Do you know how to cook rhubarb?”

Arthur grimaced into the basket as if it held an enemy. “No…and I’m not sure I trust red celery.”

“It’s not celery,” he sighed. “Put it back.”

“Do you like Freya or not?” Arthur countered, replacing the bundle.

“I’ve known her for less than five minutes,” Merlin defended.

“After five minutes will you like her?” Arthur pushed.

“I’m not interested in women. I’m here for the internship,” Merlin declared carefully.

He entered the organic section and began plucking granola bars and vegetable chips off the shelves until Arthur said, “Is it the hair? Are brunettes too dark for you?”

Merlin gave him a look that seriously questioned the blonde’s intelligence. “Shall I abandon mirrors altogether, then?”

“I’m just saying,” Arthur defended haughtily, “you never once flirted with Guinevere, nor are you interested in Morgana…”

“Really, Arthur, the things you notice,” Merlin replied bluntly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Arthur demanded.

Sighing, Merlin paused long enough to say, “Figure it out. Maybe then we’ll have something to talk about.”

“That is hardly fair,” he rebuked, eagerly piling steaks, sausage, and bacon into the cart. Merlin ignored him and spoke with the seafood merchant about the tuna. After he accepted the wrapped parcels of tuna steak, Arthur murmured over his shoulder, “So help me, Merlin, if you don’t talk to me I will cause a scene in this store.”

Merlin gazed at him innocently. “What’s on your mind? I can’t imagine _anything_ worth causing a scene over.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you being difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult,” he countered evenly. “You’re being a spoiled prat. I suggest you conceal that side of yourself when we meet the girls tonight. It’s unattractive.”

Merlin turned his back on the confounded hurt in Arthur’s eyes. He was meandering past the frozen section, contemplating if frozen pizzas were a good idea, if and how he should apologize to Arthur, or if it was better to leave the passive aggressive insult in the air to put distance between them—but then Arthur chimed, “Oh look, a restroom. Let’s go in.”

“‘Let’s’?” Merlin repeated dumbly before Arthur shoved him through an open door. Once inside the bathroom, Arthur ducked to see if anyone was inside the stalls before lifting a hand—

Merlin flinched, jerking back so far his shoulder blades thumped against the wall tile, his hands raised defensively. Arthur stood there, his hand still poised in the air as he stared, dumbfounded.

Slowly, his eyes widened and his hand sank by his hip. “Who hit you?”

“What.Noone.Ijustreacted,” Merlin responded, too quickly.

Arthur took a careful step forward, observing him closely. “No one reacts like that unless they’ve been struck before. Who hit you?”

“No one!” Merlin pleaded. “What did you expect? You just pushed me in here…”

“Is that where your scars came from?” he interjected as if Merlin had not spoken. His expression opened, fringing on anger. “But your scars are old… Did your father—?”

“Don’t bring my father into this,” Merlin uttered darkly. “He’s never raised a hand to me. He was too busy evading his own dangers.”

Arthur frowned with confusion, forcing Merlin to add, “He’s kind of an important international figure, which makes a lot of people angry. He couldn’t stay in one place with us…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Why are we in a dingy grocery store bathroom?”

“Because I thought, maybe, in a private setting you’d speak openly with me,” Arthur responded.

“About how you persistently make sure I’m not alone?” he countered. “How you don’t trust me to go anywhere on my own?”

Arthur’s features settled into resignation. He glanced at his shoes before he returned his gaze to Merlin’s. “I know what Agravaine did. He is my uncle, and I should have been able to guess...but I never assumed he would do that… How did you know that I knew?”

Merlin sighed. “You and Morgana weren’t exactly subtle.” It was mostly the truth; he knew if he mentioned Uther they would tread down paths best yet untouched. “Arthur…I’m grateful, I am, but you’re not responsible for him or for me.”

The blonde swerved his eyes toward the ceiling. “Merlin, against all odds, I’ve come to consider you a friend. That makes me responsible.”

He approached the opposite wall, where Merlin was still pressed. “And you can thank me with a hug and then a dinner fit for a king.”

Merlin huffed a scoff. “We have the orientation dinner.”

Arthur was not fazed in the least. “I didn’t mean tonight. The steaks will keep.”

Bowing his head, Merlin relinquished a laugh and nodded. “Fine. How do you want your lame bro hug, then?”

Arthur’s head shook but his lips curved in an amused smirk. “None of that one-armed shit you give Morgana.”

He dragged a gentle hand over Merlin’s scalp before pulling him against his body, followed by his other arm encompassing him. Merlin’s arms loosely encircled the strong torso as he felt his mouth and cheek press into Arthur’s shirt; he simultaneously scorned and thanked his glasses for being in the way, otherwise nothing would have barred him from nestling against the curve of Arthur’s neck. The man smelled just short of divine, and his heat warmed Merlin through the fabric of both their shirts.

Then it was gone, and Arthur ushered them both back to their cart. They made it out of the store with their canvas sacks and managed to find seats next to one another on the tram. Merlin left Arthur to manage the groceries in the kitchen while he took a shower, and when he emerged, Arthur was sound asleep on the couch. Merlin settled on one of the chairs with his legs draped over the arm and a book in his lap, but before long, he was curled up in slumber as well…

_Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

Merlin roused, only to wake in a world of dark, smeared blotches. He patted himself down and the cushion around him, the crevasses of the chair, and the floor directly below him, but his spectacles were nowhere to be found. “Arthur. Arthur?”

His head swiveled in the direction of the couch, but he might as well have had his eyes closed for all the good it did. Whoever was outside must have heard his voice and knocked again.

“Arthur!”

A door closed somewhere and Arthur’s voice entered the room. “Merlin? What is it?”

“There’s someone at the door, but I’ve lost my glasses,” he breathed. The drum pounding in his chest relaxed knowing Arthur was there.

“One minute!” Arthur called through the door, and then Merlin felt his hands searching his body and the chair around him, much as he’d already searched. Merlin felt himself abruptly lifted and then settled on Arthur’s lap.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed, slumping clumsily against the soft yet powerful torso. Arthur's hands were stuffed beneath the cushion.

“I’ve already looked under the chair. They must be beneath you.”

“But I’ve searched under the seat,” Merlin countered, his hands pushing against Arthur’s sternum to sit up straight.

“Hold still,” Arthur commanded, and Merlin was statuesque when the bases of Arthur’s palms held his face, and the earpieces of his glasses slid past his temples. Merlin’s eyes were closed until the nosepiece rested between his eyes, then he swallowed and met Arthur’s gaze in the evening light. His palm rubbed Merlin’s back, and he knew Arthur felt his erratic heart beating through his ribs when he uttered amicably, “Who did you say was high maintenance? Were you awake long? I was on the balcony on the phone. One of these days we should take you to the optometrist for an extra pair of glasses.”

Arthur might have meant to calm him, remaining where he was with Merlin on his lap and stroking his back while his other hand rested on Merlin’s knee, but it had the opposite effect. Merlin’s heart beat harder, reaching for Arthur’s hand between his shoulder blades. “How do you know this is my only pair?”

“You said so, the first day in chemistry,” Arthur reminded. Merlin’s teeth clenched, feeling his jubilant organ skipping a beat and engorging tenfold under Arthur’s hand. The man laughed, his eyes flicking toward Merlin’s chest. “You’re terribly uncoordinated with or without them. We might as well get you a few extra pairs.”

“Glasses are expensive,” he blurted, and then cleared his throat to say, “The knocking woke me…”

Arthur’s head jerked toward the door. “Oh, it’s probably dinner time.”

Merlin held onto his shoulders as Arthur set him on his feet and approached the door. Mithian and Freya gazed at them curiously. “Sorry, we had a crisis,” Arthur laughed.

Mithian shared the sentiment as she informed, “We just wanted to see if you guys wanted to walk to the restaurant together, if you’re still attending the dinner?”

“I haven’t eaten all day. Starving,” he smiled, gently pushing Merlin out the door so he could lock it. When the four of them were in the elevator, Merlin glanced at the jackets the women wore. “Is it cold outside?”

“It’s not too bad,” Mithian provided. “We were told the nights get chilly.”

Arthur cast him a smug glance. “How fortunate my sleeping bag is equipped for such measures.”

Merlin rolled dubious eyes. “If you’re sleeping on the balcony.”

Freya and Mithian exchanged puzzled looks but said nothing. Arthur leaned against the elevator wall, his shoulder alongside Merlin’s. _Was he always so…close?_ he wondered. He could not recall if Arthur consistently made a point to be near him, touching him, or if Merlin was just over sensitive, but he tried to casually inch closer to the doors, ready for when they opened.

 _Uther’s inside your head,_ he warned inwardly. _Would you be standoffish if he had never said anything? Of course not. I’d be attached to Arthur like glue every time he touched me because I’m a…_

Words that were not his own echoed inside his memory. Merlin wanted to suppress them, to push them back into the darkest waters of his mind, but the more he tried the more he inadvertently recollected them.

_It’s sick, all right? Nobody wants to know that! For fuck’s sake, Merlin, just lie. Lie until you stop being a needy cunt._

“Are you all right?” said a soft voice.

Lost in the past, Merlin had no recollection of getting to the restaurant, but now he leaned against a barrier topped with floppy plants by the hostess stand, waiting to be seated. Freya stood next to him, her kind eyes worriedly gazing at him. “Yes,” he said vacantly. “Why?”

The ghost of a smile was on her lips as she shook her head. “Nothing, you just…had a depressed expression on your face just now.”

The corners of Merlin’s lips pulled up like a puppeteer yanked on them. He scrubbed a hand over the false smile, purposely moving the flesh of his cheek. “Yeah…it does that.”

His eyes swept upward to scan the restaurant’s dark woods and ambiance coloring, only to lock on Arthur observing their exchange. His expression was unreadable, but it bore into Merlin hard enough for him to look away.

“It helps to think of something you indisputably like,” Freya provided.

Merlin peeked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

Her smile wasn’t as shy as before, but it was still soft. “Whenever my face…does what it likes…or when my mind goes somewhere without my permission, it helps if I think of something, or someplace I love.”

He absorbed her words and reiterated, “A means of escape.”

She nodded. “Call it what you like. Others might think it cowardly or unrealistic, but they don’t understand. They don’t know sadness like some of us introspective types do. They’ve never been lonely a day in their lives, so they can’t understand a place of sanctuary for us is in our heads, alone.”

Merlin’s eyes softened, submitting to the weight in his thoughts, because this person understood what it meant to carry abstract nothingness that was so paradoxically heavy and formidable. “And if your mind betrays you? If…your thoughts are where the daggers lie?”

Her teeth peeked out when her smile broadened. “I said it had to be indisputable. A sanctuary isn’t a sanctuary if it can be commandeered.”

His head bowed as he relinquished a smile and a breathy laugh. “You did, and I suppose you’re right.”

“This way,” the hostess gathered. The four of them were not the first to arrive, but they were shown to a long expanse of tables aligned for the internship party. Arthur sat across from Merlin and they commenced with introductions while people gradually filtered in and filled the tables.

A flustered older woman arrived with the last few members and beamed from the head of the table. “Welcome! Welcome all. I’m so sorry for the delay. I’m your program advisor and coordinator! Don’t mind what I’m passing out to you, you’re welcome to use it as placemats and to just listen to me instead. If you happen to look over it, you will find the activity itinerary, as well as all the contact information you could ever need for people you should have any need to contact.”

She paused to inhale and continued handing out the stapled pages as she walked the line of tables. “Since we’ve got four weeks together, we’ve got four weekends to actually _enjoy_ your time off from university. Each weekend, one or two events are arranged for you, and you will find the sign-ups for these activities online. I figured you would like the week to accustom to your schedules before you made any extraneous commitments, however, this upcoming weekend, there is an overnight hiking venture and I have a sign-up sheet here if any of you stargazers wish to jump on board now.”

The page flapped dramatically in the air before it fluttered to the tabletop. The person nearest to her scooped it up, and passed it down the line so others could remain seated. When the sheet came near Arthur, he gracefully snatched it up and extracted a pen from his pocket.

“Oh! That’s why you mentioned a sleeping bag!” Mithian realized.

Arthur flashed a smile at her but then began writing another name on the page. Merlin frowned as his own name was taken away to the rest of the line. The issue was not that he didn’t want to go camping—quite the contrary, and he’d even mentioned to Arthur how he wanted to go hiking—but the conniving blonde was up to something.

He turned accusatory eyes on Arthur, who was nothing but smug. He leaned in on his elbows, speaking quietly and with purpose. “You’ve been acting strange ever since I told you I was coming. There’s more going on with you, and I will learn what it is even if I have to isolate you in the woods for a weekend to get it out of you.”

“Wow. What a date,” Merlin responded, deadpan.


	14. Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur begin to unravel certain mysteries about one another.

Merlin awoke to a colossal weight landing atop him. His duvet was over his head, but he could guess who the cause was.

“Hmmrthur…Arthur, get off…” he whined, trying to dig himself out of the bedclothes and out from beneath Arthur. He inhaled sharply when he managed to free his head, but Arthur’s body tightened around him, pressing him into the mattress much as he had when Merlin had to wake him up for their flight. Glancing out the window at the dawn light, Merlin commented groggily, “Arthur, brunch is in a few hours. I’m not a pillow, go back to your room.”

“Let me sleep…” Arthur grumbled.

Merlin wriggled an arm loose for his glasses and peered over the edge of his comforter to see Arthur still dressed as he’d been for dinner last night. “Are you just now getting to bed?”

“Mm hm,” he hummed.

Puzzled, Merlin remembered, “We got back from the restaurant hours ago. Why are you—?”

“Father knows,” Arthur murmured tersely. “He wasn’t happy I hung up on him and left my phone here during dinner…”

Merlin’s sleepy expression furrowed. _When did he hang up…?_ His eyes widened. _When I lost my glasses…he was on the phone…_ “You’ve been speaking with him all night?”

“Mhm,” was Arthur’s confirmation. Merlin hadn’t heard a thing last night...had Arthur left the flat or had he been that quiet for his sake?

“Um…are you okay?”

“Fine, Merlin.”

“Erm, then why aren’t you in your room?”

“The pillows are flat.”

Merlin sighed heavily. “And it never occurred to you to pile them? Your first instinct was to use Merlin. Merlin doesn’t need his lungs. He won’t mind an elbow in his kidney. Merlin doesn’t mind…”

“Ssshhh,” Arthur hushed, removing his elbow from Merlin’s side to press the pads of his fingers to Merlin’s lips.

Shifting beneath the blond mass, Merlin positioned himself on his back, and in the process maneuvered Arthur’s weight so he was oddly draped across him like a sleeping dragon. Merlin’s last conscious thought was to flick his glasses back onto the bedside dresser. His arm remained outstretched, where Arthur’s silky tresses nestled under it. Merlin passed out with his warm weight around him…

He startled awake to the sound of his phone vibrating on the floor near the charging socket. Something soft tickled his face, and Merlin startled anew at the feeling of Arthur’s face pressed against his chest and his strong arms locked around Merlin’s waist.

Orientating his whereabouts on the bed, Merlin tried reaching over Arthur for his spectacles. His fingers danced over the lenses, so close—

Arthur felt his weight leaning over him and he rolled with Merlin in his arms. The advantage of this was he retrieved his glasses. The disadvantage was they rolled off the bed.

“Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur exclaimed the same time Merlin huffed, “Oof! Ow…”

The former sat up quickly, removing his weight from the latter’s diaphragm. “Merlin! What are you doing?”

“I was trying to get my glasses!” he defended raggedly. “You rolled us off the bed—Arthur, your knee…please!”

The sandy stubble on his jaw dropped as he examined what Merlin’s hands were clawing for, and he realized his knee was digging into Merlin’s inner thigh. He sighed audibly when Arthur hastily moved his leg. Merlin’s chest heaved with relief, his head falling back. Arthur’s eyes widened slightly and he sat back, leaning against the bed while Merlin crawled to the corner where his phone rested. Arthur raked a hand through his bedhead as Merlin lay on his stomach, reading texts.

“Gwaine and Lancel send their regards…oh, we missed brunch.”

“What time is it?” Arthur wondered.

“Two in the afternoon.”

“WHAT?” he barked, jumping up to find his own phone. Merlin watched him go and read Gwaine’s demands for a chat before dialing. Gwaine answered with, “MERLIN! Have you been thoroughly ravished, yet?”

He stared dumbly at the wall and listened to the giggles of Lancel and Morgana in the background. “Am I on speaker?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?”

“You’re having a conference about my sex life?” he demanded.

“Of course not. We’re having one for Arthur’s,” Gwaine scoffed before Morgana eclipsed his voice.

“This is not a conference. We’re together and you came up in the conversation. How is everything?”

“We haven’t started,” Merlin amended, rubbing sand from his eyes. “It’s still orientation. Well, it would be but we slept through it.”

Gwaine’s voice roared in the background, “Atta boy!”

Lancel spoke next, “Hey, Merlin. All joking aside, how are you? How’s Arthur?”

He glanced at the door, but he could hear Arthur speaking on his own mobile across the apartment. “Um…as fine as he can be, I guess. He was up all night talking to Uther. I think they’re at it again, now.”

Morgana confirmed, “Last I saw of Father, he was pacing the living room. Give him time. He’ll get off your backs.”

“That’s what Arthur said,” Merlin muttered dubiously.

“And you? How are you?” Lancel repeated.

“Your texts woke me,” he explained, “so I’m fully charged. You and Gwen? Gwaine, how are the videos coming?”

“Glorious!” Gwaine called. “You look splendid, mate. The spring show will be a knock out.”

Lancel laughed. “I’ve seen some of it, and he isn’t wrong. Gwen wishes she could have given you her regards in person, but she’s glad Arthur is moving on; we both are. Tell us about things, what’s the flat like?”

Merlin relayed to him the details of their living quarters, the view off the balcony, and the neighbors. He glanced again at the door to see if Arthur was still on the phone, but his shower was running instead. “The taller one’s got her eyes on Arthur but she’s nice enough—”

“WHO CARES HOW NICE SHE IS?” Gwaine retorted. “If Arthur starts making moves on her, you drag him into the nearest bedroom and stake your claim! Hell, take him right there on the couch!”

Merlin’s head landed in his palm. “I care. She’ll be working with him, and he should work with someone decent for the holiday.”

There was a pause on the other side. Lancel broke the silence. “Arthur will never settle for decent.”

“OF COURSE HE WON’T! HE WANTS EXTRAORDINARY! HE WANTS MERLIN!” Gwaine bellowed.

In a milder tone, Morgana entered, “Merlin, have you thought about telling Arthur you like him?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly, “but it’s not my side that needs adjusting. Arthur will never confess to me if he feels like Uther is breathing down his neck. He’s already loosened up a lot since we’ve been here, but…I don’t think he realizes he’s flirting with me…”

“IF THAT BASTARD IS LEADING YOU ON—”

“Hush,” Morgana silenced. “Go on.”

Merlin opened his mouth but paused, considering how to phrase what he wanted to say. “He…after he got off the phone with Uther, he came to my room…something about his pillows being flat, but I don’t think he was comfortable sleeping alone.”

There was silence again on the line, and once again, Lancel broke it. “That’s huge.”

“Yeah,” Morgana agreed. “Merlin, you haven’t known Arthur as long, plus you’re usually the Point B to his A, so you couldn’t have noticed, but Arthur doesn’t open up easily. He’s only ever shown vulnerability to me, largely because we grew up together and because I beat it out of him, but more importantly, he seeks you out when he needs solace. He opens up to you without realizing it.”

“It’s true,” Lancel seconded. “As long as he and Gwen were together, she never managed to break through his armor. Instead of seeking an outlet or venting, he bottled it up. It seems you’ve found a way in.”

“This is a good thing, right?” Gwaine uttered. “You always sleep with—what?—eight pillows, so a snuggle buddy is a blessing.”

“I think it was a one-time thing,” Merlin countered dubiously.

“Wait, what’s the deal with the pillows?” Morgana wondered, but Merlin went from lying on his stomach to standing on his feet when Arthur repeated, “What’s a one-time thing?”

“The orientation dinner!” he piped. “There’s just one…the others wanted to know how things were…”

“Is that my brother? Put him on!” Morgana’s voice could be heard over the air.

Merlin obligingly selected the speaker option and Arthur smiled, “I’m on.”

While Lancel and Gwaine boomed their greetings, Merlin took advantage of the moment to slip into his bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He cast Arthur a sideways glance, observing the navy v-neck and grey jeans on his hips. Merlin sniffed his own shirt, and left it, as well as Arthur’s scent, on his body.

Meandering to the kitchen, Merlin found the skillets and cooking utensils for their midday breakfast. He could hear Arthur strolling between the balcony and rooms, having switched to video to show them the flat and its view.

“Mmm, Merlin. I’m liking those boxers,” Gwaine’s voice purred when Arthur entered the kitchen. Merlin glared at the screen where his three friends were gathered and grinning.

“This is it, you lot,” Arthur finished. “I’m going to make sure Merlin doesn’t burn the kitchen. Behave yourselves.”

Merlin’s comically appalled expression mirrored Morgana’s. “Oh shut it! Merlin, keep your eyes on him. One minute he’s boiling water and the next the fireman’s asking how he managed to burn water.”

His giggles caught when Arthur yanked him against his body to be in the frame. He blushed against the smirks his friends cast them. “My smoothies will always be better than yours, sister,” Arthur shot back.

Morgana tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Yes, because it takes such brilliance to pulverize fruit. I thought you were a chemist?”

Merlin provided, “His chemistry’s fine. It’s the art of cooking he can’t fathom.”

Arthur shook his head in resignation. “Fortunately I have a residential artist.” Merlin’s shoulder lifted as Arthur hugged him closer. “Make sure Father eats, meanwhile I’ll make sure these pasty legs get some sun. Take care.”

A chorus of good byes sounded through the speaker, and then Arthur set the phone on the counter. “Did you notice a blender? I’ll pack smoothies for the beach.”

“Um, yeah, that cabinet,” Merlin pointed, swaying slightly when Arthur let go of him. They both grimaced at the onslaught of cacophony the device caused, but before long, they had smoothies in travel containers and a tupper-ware container full of eggs and bacon bits.

When it came time to leave, however, Arthur’s gaze dropped to Merlin’s jeans. “Usually _shorts_ are the protocol for the beach…”

“I don’t own any,” he defended.

Arthur stared, dumbfounded, until he set the smoothie containers down and entered Merlin’s room. Merlin followed curiously but also with a modicum of anxiety. Arthur rummaged through his drawers until he threw a pair of briefs as well as boxer shorts at him. “These are both underwear,” he countered.

“Observant,” Arthur sassed. “The briefs will cover you, and the boxers will pass as shorts. I bought SPF sixty for you. It goes on like clay. I’ll be in the hall.”

Merlin heard the door shut as he hastily donned the black briefs and navy shorts, but as soon as he joined Arthur in the elevator and descended to the lobby, he felt self-conscious. His knobby knees and skinny shins might as well have glowed in the dark, and standing next to Arthur, who had managed to keep his light golden muscles throughout the winter, Merlin felt like a pale sore.

He was fiddling with his hair, pulling it over the scars on his temple, as Arthur led the way down the boardwalk and into the sand. He stripped his jeans to reveal matching steel grey swimming shorts, and laid out their towels after handing Merlin the sunscreen. He was not wrong about the viscosity, and it took Merlin several minutes just to rub it into one leg well enough so he didn’t look like a tribal painted figure.

“Do you want help with your back?” Arthur offered as he quickly rubbed a milder lotion across his arms and bare torso.

“No, I’m leaving my shirt on, thanks,” he replied, finishing the other leg and covering his nape. “Hold these,” he requested, handing Arthur his glasses so he could lotion his face.

“You won’t mind sleeve lines?” he asked, swiping a finger along the hem of Merlin’s sleeve.

“I’ll roll them up in a minute. This stuff is so thick, it might not matter,” Merlin said, wiping the residual lotion on his ears. His palm opened for his glasses, which Arthur provided while his own eyes found the opalescent scar tissue on his nape. The strange crescent-shaped scars descended below the fabric of his shirt, and Arthur recalled how Gwaine had gestured to the majority of Merlin’s back, not just his nape. It was Merlin’s business if he wished to keep his torso hidden, but Arthur couldn’t help the surge of curiosity in the rear of his mind.

He diverted his attention to the tupper-ware of breakfast, which he settled on his lap while Merlin sipped his smoothie and fiddled with a camera. The sound of the waves and the chatter of tourists and seagulls lulled Arthur’s mind so he was dazedly watching people do everything from build sandcastles, then topple them, set up umbrellas before losing them to the wind, and even the rise of dolphin fins on the horizon by the time he realized how much he’d eaten.

Holding out the container, he said, “Merlin, eat the rest of this…Merlin?”

His towel was rumpled but Merlin was a quarter mile down the beach. Arthur groaned to his feet and strode after him. He stopped ankle-deep in the shallows to poise his camera in front of his face, but he had music in his ears. Arthur appreciated that the smoothie container was empty at least, clutched between Merlin’s elbow and ribcage. Arthur slipped behind him and pulled the container, causing Merlin to startle and whirl around before he smiled at Arthur.

“Oh,” he exhaled, relieved as he popped one of his ear buds out. “I thought I’d dropped it.”

Arthur traded him the eggs and bacon. “We’ve already been here an hour and I’ve eaten two-thirds of this. Take the rest.”

Merlin shrugged the camera strap across his chest and accepted the container with both hands. As he forked eggs into his mouth, Arthur pressed the pads of his fingers against Merlin’s nape, testing how much sun his skin had absorbed. “You’ll be due for another coat, soon.”

“I suppose you’ll want your feast tonight?” Merlin changed, pivoting slightly so Arthur's hand slipped from his neck.

He scratched his jaw, considering. “Sooner rather than later if you’ll be eating tuna. Best cook that before the fridge reeks.”

He herded Merlin back to their towels, where they relaxed for another half an hour before Merlin declared he needed to start cooking. Initially Arthur wondered what took three hours to cook, but after he finished unpacking, arranged the towels and his laundry in the walk-in laundry closet, and checked all of his messages and e-mails, he walked into the kitchen to find Merlin still working on the preparatory work. A colander of washed potatoes and vegetables rested the sink while Merlin was chopping and dropping the bits into a skillet. Arthur took the initiative and started prepping the potatoes as Merlin dictated.

With that done, he cut the saran wrap from the steaks and dropped them into a bag with spices before Merlin instructed him to reach for the grill pan in the highest cabinet. “Should we get you a stool?” he quipped.

“Don’t insult the people handling your food,” Merlin responded dryly, stirring the vegetables as he drizzled pepper-infused oil over them.

“It wasn’t an insult, merely an observation,” Arthur replied, setting down the pan.

Merlin wiped the residual oil dripping down the bottle with his thumb. “Let’s test how well you observe,” he said, and dabbed his thumb on Arthur’s lower lip.

Arthur blinked, mildly surprised by Merlin’s audacity before his tongue swiped across that lip, bringing the drop of oil into his mouth. “Is that some sort of challenge, or am I…” he paused as he felt heat slowly enflaming his tongue. “Oh…oh—shit!”

He opened the refrigerator for the milk while Merlin chuckled victoriously. “To answer your question, yes, and you failed.”

Arthur wiped his mouth and set the milk in the fridge before sidling up to the stove once more. “I wasn’t aware you implemented underhanded methods,” he muttered, pinching Merlin’s side, just underneath his ribcage.

Merlin lurched to the side as if he’d been stung, and Arthur’s puzzled gaze connected with Merlin’s shocked one, before his eyes shot wide. _“No,”_ Merlin ordered.

 _“Yes,”_ Arthur growled wickedly.

“No!” Merlin repeated, wielding a wooden spoon defensively.

Arthur approached slowly, stalking as he uttered, “You can’t fake not being ticklish, Merlin.”

“No! No! No! No!” Merlin prodded Arthur’s reaching hands before he turned tail and ran. Arthur lunged after him, chasing Merlin around the dining room table and then the overstuffed couch and chairs until Merlin hopped over the coffee table like a stair and vaulted over the back of the couch.

“You’re surprisingly limber for a skinny thing,” he guffawed, enjoying the chase.

“You’re expectedly slow for a hulk of muscle,” Merlin returned in a rush, his chest heaving.

They danced around each other, on opposite sides of the room as Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t varsity because I was big.”

In a flash, he was over the couch, and in the next second, Merlin had dropped to the floor. Arthur frowned with puzzlement at the action, and then he realized his momentum kept him going, whereas Merlin ducked and was gone right out from under him.

Merlin popped up with flushed cheeks whereas Arthur spun around, arms empty. His mirth vanished, though, when Arthur charged, and the only outlet he had was a straight line to Arthur’s room. Merlin glanced back right as Arthur’s arms closed around him. His glasses fell to the bed whereas the pair of them went tumbling over the mattress and landed roughly on the floor, much as they had this morning, only this time Arthur pulled Merlin atop him so he took the damage. Then, his hands went to work across Merlin’s body.

“NO!” he cried, but it was eclipsed in fierce giggles and exclamations. His head fell back, thumping against Arthur’s collarbone while his legs thrashed. In his rush to be free, he inadvertently pressed himself deeper against Arthur’s frame; they rolled on their sides and Merlin was almost on his stomach with Arthur’s hands torturing his ribs and neck.

A curt knocking on the door stymied Arthur’s villainous fingers. For a moment he held Merlin’s gasping form against him while his residual, breathy giggles faded. His cheeks as well as his throat and chest were a rich scarlet, and the spoon had long since been abandoned.

“Hmmy…” Merlin swallowed thickly, “my glasses.”

Arthur perked his head up and saw them on the bed. When he stood, he noticed how far Merlin’s shirt had ridden up, and right on his mid to lower back, was a scar much larger than the ones on his nape. It was a strange, narrow burst of lines, not unlike the lightning burst on his temple…like something had struck him and his skin had broken from the impact.

Arthur’s gaze darted across the ghostly ribs moving beneath his skin before he finally reached for the spectacles. “Thanks,” Merlin exhaled when he felt them in his hand. Gaining his footing, he went to the door, and Mithian’s brows rose toward her hairline at the sight of his flushed countenance.

“Oh! Uh-um, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. There was just quite a bit of noise…”

Freya’s eyes sparkled behind her and a hand flew to her mouth as she chortled.

“Please don’t apologize. You just saved me,” Merlin laughed, finally regaining his breath. “We were just making dinner.”

“Join us,” Arthur called behind him. “Merlin’s prepared enough vegetables to feed a hoard of angry rabbits.”

“We don’t want to intrude!” Mithian countered hastily with her palms lifted.

“Nonsense!” Arthur goaded. “If you don’t eat the vegetables, I’ll have to. Come in, I insist.”

The women entered, albeit warily. “Can we help in any way?” Freya offered.

“If you will do the honors,” Arthur said with a bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. When Mithian reached for wine glasses he uttered, “Don’t bother with one for Merlin. He’s boring unless you’re tickling him.”

Mithian looked to Merlin for confirmation. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

His mouth opened, ready to refuse, but then he stepped near Freya to read the wine label. “Petite Syrah…actually I will.”

Arthur’s gaze widened. “I didn’t break something in you, did I?”

Once the steaks were finished, they gathered around the table and the platters of food. Mithian hummed appreciatively when she bit into the potatoes, asparagus, and bell peppers. “Merlin, these are astounding!”

He shot a blatant look at Arthur. _“Astounding.”_

Mithian called his attention again when she voiced, “Um, and I noticed earlier, but…are you wearing your underwear?”

It was Arthur’s turn to appear smug. “He came to the shore without a swimsuit.”

“Oh, you can go out and buy one any time,” she dismissed, and then appealed, “Speaking of, I’ve heard there is an underground club in one of the boardwalk restaurants. Would anyone want to go tonight?”

Merlin shook his head. “Arthur has early hours tomorrow.”

Arthur’s lips pursed as he pondered that. “We needn’t stay long. Just for a drink, and after how late our lie in was today, I won’t be going to bed soon anyhow.”

Mithian smiled. “The sun won’t go down for a while. We can stroll the boardwalk beforehand.”

They took her up on the suggestion, but not before the men had changed into their jeans and Merlin had his camera on his shoulder. The sun was angled in an incredibly bright position, casting orange across the sand and blue shadows everywhere else. Mithian and Freya found an Italian ice vendor for dessert and asked if Merlin would take their picture next to it. The camera was poised in front of his eyes before he paused and asked Arthur, “Do you want to be in it?”

The ladies chimed their agreement, but Arthur kindly refused. In a hushed tone he murmured for Merlin’s ears, “I hate my picture being taken.”

Merlin peeked at him, disbelieving his words, but Arthur was staring in the opposite direction.

He sat on the wall separating the boardwalk from the sand with the ladies while Merlin strayed with his camera, waiting for the opportune moment…

Freya spilled Italian ice on her leg and Mithian bent double to help her wipe it off. Arthur was looking in his direction but not direction at Merlin, so he zoomed in with the sun shining like a halo behind Arthur for a shot of that unadulterated smile, curved to the side as it did when he was amused.

They descended into the club when it was still early, but in no time, the place filled with drink enthusiasts and amateur dancers. When it became apparent the establishment was about to become crowded, Arthur leaned into their circle and declared, “Let’s claim a booth before they’re all taken.”

Merlin noticed how, whenever Mithian or Freya got up to replenish their drink, either he or Arthur accompanied them; after the double instances of Arthur’s drinks being poisoned, they were not taking any chances. Both Arthur and Merlin rode out the high of the wine, going without drinks from the blue, luminescent bar. Merlin did purchase a bottle of water at some point, however, and poured it into two glasses for himself and his flat mate.

“Does anyone want to dance?” Mithian requested.

Arthur glanced into the cavernous room, which sank into the ground below a short flight of stairs before it curved around the corner. He shook his head. “I’ll pass.”

Freya also declined, inducing Mithian to gaze at Merlin, who smiled and nodded. Handing Arthur his camera, he warned, “Guard it with your life,” before he drained his glass and offered Mithian his hand. They trotted down the stairs and nudged their way into the sea of humanity. Merlin had to delve deep into the space and around the corner to the farthest wall before he found a space large enough for he and Mithian.

Turning to face her, he twirled her before he released her hand and they let the dancers around them bump and nudge them as the music dictated. When she was bumped hard enough to lurch forward, Merlin caught her and he waved at the drunken woman apologizing. To resume dancing, he took both of Mithian’s hands and together they twirled backwards and moved together.

“You can dance!” she commended over the music. They laughed and she paused to ask, “Wait! How’d you do that?”

Merlin extended his hands toward her waist and asked, “May I?”

She nodded and he held her to show how he moved with the music, guiding her to do the same. After a time she giggled gleefully and her palms rested on his chest as they writhed.

Arthur glanced at Freya, whose long lashes were batting slower and slower. “Sleepy?”

They swept wide and she smiled bashfully. “Oh, yes, I suppose so.”

“I apologize, we should have taken your fatigue into consideration—”

“No! I was fine until now, really,” she insisted. “The dinner is just hitting me and all the music becomes white noise after a time, doesn’t it?”

Arthur smiled. “I agree. I never was one for clubs, but I always find myself with people who demand to be inside them.”

Her shoulders relaxed as they shared a laugh. “It is gallant of you to humor them, and us.”

His blue irises focused on her, looking over her clearly as if for the first time. “What about you? Somehow I envision Mithian as the one needing humoring.”

Freya cast intelligent eyes on him. “Are you calling her tedious?”

“I don’t know her well enough for that,” he evaded smugly, earning another giggle from her. Arthur realized he’d undervalued Freya; she was keen as well as containing a jovial sense of humor. “Really, I’ll get the others and we can call it a night. I don’t mind.”

Her warm brown eyes did not look away from him as she thought it over, and then she nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hardly,” he assured, rising from the table. “Wait here.”

On the stairs, he used the height to scan the crowd, but Merlin’s black hair was difficult to find in the din. He realized he would need to get in there if he hoped to find them. He discovered another bar in this room, also fluorescent blue and nigh unreachable, it was so encompassed by people seeking refills.

Arthur was around the bend of the L-shaped room when he finally sighted Mithian dancing with someone near the wall. They were close enough to the blue glow that her brown tresses shone almost violet, while her partner’s ebony hair glimmered blue…

He stared, dumbfounded at Merlin and Mithian dancing. Merlin, the skinny, gangly, stubborn yet fragile _Merlin_ was dancing as if…well, he was dancing like he was at club, only he looked as if he was paid to encourage better dance skills just by being present. A memory kindled in Arthur’s memory, reminding him that he knew Merlin could dance, but he’d only ever seen him dance classically with Gwen or Morgana… With Mithian, his hands cradled her waist, holding her nearly flush against him as they bobbed and moved with the blaring music. It was indeed white noise to Arthur, but watching them, he could distinguish a beat and rhythm.

The song changed, and the two of them parted, simultaneously breaking Arthur from his reverie. Merlin and Mithian remained close but they danced separately, singing the lyrics at each other until Merlin clapped his hands and started an en mass ripple of clapping. He and Mithian gaped at one another before guffawing.

Their laughter was cut short by a man barreling into Merlin, and therefore Mithian, in a human domino effect. He caught Mithian and his footing before he sent her crashing to the floor, but the wind was knocked from his lungs. She gripped his shoulders, stabilizing him so he could turn around and acknowledge the rude person. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he saw Arthur planting a splayed hand across the shoulder of the man who had not even turned around to recognize his mistake. Arthur’s gaze was cold, and his smile was colder as he urged the man out of their space without argument.

The ice in his eyes melted when he turned to them. Merlin’s eyelashes fluttered when Arthur’s strong arm enveloped his waist, drawing him close. He leaned in to say, “Freya is tired and I rather agree with her. Are you ready to go?”

Mithian raked the strands of hair sticking to her face off and nodded assertively. “Lead the way.”

Arthur released Merlin’s waist to take his hand, leading the human chain back to the booth and out of the club.

They parted ways in the corridor with Mithian saying, “That was fun! We must go dancing again, Merlin.”

He grinned widely and nodded. “We will. After the camping trip this weekend.”

“It’s a date!” she smiled.

Arthur’s head perked up from the door he was unlocking. Mithian’s smile faltered. “Well, you know.”

“Yeah,” Merlin salvaged. “Good night, you two.”

Freya waved and they continued toward their own flat. Without a word, Arthur opened the door and tossed his keys on the counter. He was setting Merlin’s camera on the coffee table when Merlin asked, “Did you enjoy your dinner, _sire?”_

“Yes,” Arthur said dryly. “Did you enjoy dancing with Mithian?”

“I did,” he answered honestly. “Was Freya really tired or were you bored?”

Arthur turned to face him. “Hardly. Freya is surprisingly good at conversation. Would you have stayed if I offered to take her home?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, reading other words in the question. “I think Mithian and I would have agreed to come along just as we did tonight, but we did enjoy each other’s company. She’s a good dancer.”

“Yes, I’d forgotten you dance like a fairy, but you didn’t dance like one tonight.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “If you wanted to dance with her, you should have said yes when she asked, instead of worrying how someone else might dance with her.”

“She’s perfectly entitled to dance how she likes, with whom she likes,” Arthur refuted. “I didn’t expect the two of you to hit it off, I suppose. You were sure she liked me.”

“Because she does,” Merlin confirmed, “but she was asking anyone to dance. If you wanted to join us, that would have been fine; it wasn’t about romantic intrigue…if you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Arthur’s eyes became hooded, with fatigue or repulsion or sadness, Merlin could not tell. “Kings do not dance with fairies, Merlin.”

He left Merlin standing in the living room, his bedroom door shutting between them.


	15. Calm Before the Storm

The clatter of metal and porcelain woke Merlin. He exhaled audibly as he reached for his glasses. Four days into the official start of the workweek, and Arthur still hadn’t learned how a coffee maker worked. After the night at the club, Merlin had awoken to an even louder clatter, the cacophonous attempts of making breakfast. Then, as he was now, Merlin dragged himself out of bed to help him, even though he needn’t be up for another two and a half hours.

“Coffee beans. Water. Button,” Merlin narrated groggily, and with more than a modicum of annoyance. “I hardly drink coffee and I know this.”

“We use a coffee press at home,” Arthur snapped, firmly embedded in his morning, grouchy glory. “Since you’re up, you might as well crack some eggs in that pan.”

The last three days proved strenuous, at best. When the intern program warned the experience was ‘intensely immersive,’ they meant it, so the flat mates hadn’t shared a minute together, much less seen each other except for these moments: Arthur waking him up and Merlin begrudgingly making him breakfast. By the time Merlin returned in the late evenings, Arthur was already in bed, and their lunch breaks were at different times, and in different buildings.

Other than these circumstances, Merlin was enjoying it immensely. Freya and his other laboratory partners were intelligent, amusing, and reliable, and the graphic team he worked with hosted doughnuts every Monday and promised euros every Thursday. Merlin salivated at the notion of the juicy chicken and tzatziki sauce he would have in a few hours’ time, but meanwhile he frowned glumly at the eggs and left over tuna steak in the refrigerator.

“Have you started packing?” Arthur inquired.

Merlin froze. The hiking trip left tomorrow morning and he dared not think what all Arthur planned on bringing. “No,” he answered warily. “I was going to pick up the rental equipment this afternoon.”

“Such as?”

“A tent, sleeping bag, a mat, a water canteen, filters, boots, a backpack to carry it all…”

Arthur made a gruff sound of jaded impatience. “Text me a list and I will get what I can on my own time.”

“All right. Stir the eggs. I’m going to bed,” Merlin announced once his task was completed. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but when he awoke he frowned at the burnt pieces in the skillet left in the sink. He peeked in the trash bin, where the charred mounds of scrambled eggs rested.

With a sigh and shake of his head, Merlin prepared his own breakfast as well as a sandwich, fruit, and small smoothie to conceal a couple servings of vegetables for whenever Arthur returned. Merlin wasn’t sure if he came here for lunch or dinner, but it would be here nonetheless.

His hours in the laboratory went by quickly since it was a series of preparations that would essentially become a waiting game for chemicals to mix, machines to process, and results to quantify. When he finished, he estimated which items Arthur would need for himself and which Merlin could get for the both of them. Arthur replied to the list with a terse, _Got it,_ and that was the extent of their discussion. By the time Merlin returned to the flat to drop off his share of the hiking and camping gear, Arthur was already gone for the second half of his day.

Merlin entered the graphic lab and smiled, mystified as he always was upon entering the dome-shaped room. The ceiling was glass ribbed with steel, illuminating the room with natural lighting while its occupants already worked to get an order ready for the restaurant.

“Merlin! What do you want on your gyro?” one of them called out. Merlin relayed his desired toppings before requesting they order two, which he promised to pay for himself. Afterwards, he filled up on pita-wrapped goodness while he kept one of his ear buds in so he could hear his music and also engage with the others as they worked.

Arthur was awake when he returned to the flat after dark. A backpack was laid out on the coffee table, items strewn around it, as Arthur worked on packing for the day ahead. The fabric of his shirt hugged his shoulders when he rotated to greet Merlin with, “Is this entire thing supposed to be our tent?”

The tightly sealed bundle in his hand was no larger than a well-stocked first aid kit. “It’s for light weather,” Merlin defended. “It’s not forecast to rain until next week. It’s made of water-resistant material just in case. There’s only the two of us.”

“Still,” Arthur murmured, setting it in the base of the pack, “I expected something…well, something else.”

“The wires unfold,” Merlin said cheerfully as he set his spare euro in the refrigerator. “All we have to do is stake it to the ground.”

“Wonderful,” Arthur rumbled, although he did not sound delighted at all.

Merlin paused as he set up his own backpack for inspection. “What is it?”

Arthur’s eyes dragged toward him as if he hadn’t noticed he was speaking. He blinked and quickly looked away with the shake of his head. “Nothing. Just looking forward to leaving my phone here.”

Merlin absorbed that, nodded once, and chose not to respond. He could only imagine the conversations he and Uther had shared throughout the week. Merlin went to the sink to fill the filtered water bottle and retrieve the plethora of snacks for the journey. He split a box of granola bars with Arthur, who reluctantly accepted his portion of vegetable chips and yogurt-covered dried fruit.

He crammed it all next to his bag of jerky before he stood and went to the fridge. “I’ve made breakfast.” Merlin peeked up to see him gesturing to two canisters of smoothie.

“Thanks,” he replied vacantly.

“And, erm…” Arthur muttered, drawing Merlin’s attention back to him. “Thanks, you know, for lunch.”

“Sure,” he nodded, obligingly dropping his chin to save Arthur’s dignity regarding the burnt eggs.

He was lifting his sleeping bag to put inside the pack when Arthur intercepted, “Give that here. I’ll carry it.”

Merlin cast him a confused expression. His eyes found the rolled sleeping bag that Arthur had yet to pack, and which was at least twice the size of Merlin’s. “You’ve got your own. I’m fine.”

“Merlin.”

“You’re already carrying the tent. Really, I’m fine.”

Arthur waited silently on the couch, but after a moment he replied, “You’re right. You are stronger than you look.”

Only Merlin’s eyes moved as his lashes swooped up to peer at him. He did not want to know where or what had induced that response, so he shoved it from his thoughts. Leaving his pack where it was, he announced, “We should turn in. I’ll finish packing in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’ll turn in soon,” Arthur confirmed, his attention firmly on playing Tetris with his items.

Merlin’s hand grazed his doorframe as he said over his shoulder, “Goodnight.”

“Yeah,” Arthur returned, as if he hadn’t consciously said it. Merlin closed the door without looking back, and gratefully stepped into the stream of water in the shower stall. He brushed his teeth while his conditioner washed from his hair. He had to leave his glasses on the counter, but everything was easy enough to feel for.

His hands ran through his hair, helping the conditioner along until his fingertips settled on the ridge of a vertebra on his nape. The pads of his fingers wandered lower, feeling other ridges as his spine standing between his shoulder blades, which sat like awkwardly small wings. It was one thing seeing himself in a mirror, but feeling his frame without the forewarning of sight was a different experience entirely. He could count his ribs with minimal pressure against his skin, and even tuck his fingers underneath the cage of each lung.

His hipbones practically rose up to meet his touch, and Merlin caught himself wondering, _Would Arthur like that?_

His palm rubbed over his ribs again, remembering how he’d called Merlin bony once, but with Arthur, it was hard to tell how serious his snarky comments were. Plus, after calling him bony, Arthur had simply flipped Merlin over for a more comfortable side, which was different than disposing of him entirely…

Shaking his head, he turned the water off and carefully stepped out the shower, placing his spectacles on his face and meeting his reflection. Jesus, he hadn’t even thought about his clavicle, but there it was, a proud ridge between his shoulders, holding everything up. Merlin trudged to his dresser and found the largest, plushest sweater to cover it all.

Curling up in bed with the spare pillows he’d taken from the closet, he listened to Arthur’s soft movements on the opposite side of the flat. Occasionally, there were pauses, maybe him checking his phone, carding his hand through his scalp as he searched for something, removing his jeans and pulling up those pajama pants…

In his mind’s eye, Merlin wanted Arthur staring at the wall, trying to see through it to Merlin’s room, until he ventured past the wall and arrived at his door. Merlin imagined a knock, but then he thought it highly unlikely of Arthur to knock.

Though maybe he would this time, it being an unprecedented occasion. He would knock and turn the knob quietly, just in case Merlin was already asleep. But that wouldn’t stop him. His knee would weigh the bed down as he softly whispered Merlin’s name, leaning in for a delicate, albeit purposeful kiss on his throat. Arthur’s palm would stretch across his forehead as his thumb stroked along the bridge of Merlin’s nose, carefully rousing him while also moving his head to the side, exposing his neck for more kisses. When a breathy sigh escaped his chest, Arthur’s voice would be deeper, huskier than before.

_Merlin._

His hand drifted toward his groin, where his erection was more awake than he was. Merlin’s fingers slipped past his boxers, though, reaching for his inner thigh. Arthur’s free hand would push his legs apart, making his intention known, but the pressure of his thumb on Merlin’s sensitive thigh would shoot blood pulsating through his cock.

_Your sweaters are too large, Merlin. It’s in the way. I want to touch you._

So he’d shove the fabric up around Merlin’s chest before leaning across the bed, spreading his body weight over him, but Merlin’s hands would fumble at his shirt. _Skin,_ Merlin could practically hear his voice rasp, _I need skin—_

The thought was cut short since Merlin knew Arthur would either smirk mischievously or silence him with hungry, demanding kisses…and Merlin much preferred the latter.

This time, Arthur wouldn’t taste of whiskey or sugar and ginger; the taste would be all Arthur, the perfect warmth and flavor to compliment his male, citrusy scent washing over Merlin. Both of them would practically fight over the shirt until Arthur won out, breaking the kiss to pull it over his head and causing Merlin to gape at his wonderful figure, all softly rippling muscles and sinew.

The phantom fingers of Arthur’s hand lifted Merlin’s chin. _My lips are up here, beautiful._

But instead of Merlin’s mouth, Arthur began a trail of kisses on his cheekbone, on the bridge of his nose, between his brows, all the way to his ear. Merlin’s face fell to the side to give him better access; those teeth sending electric ripples straight to his erection, which he lifted helplessly to grind against any part of Arthur he could get.

With the first thrust, he found Arthur’s groin, causing the blonde to freeze, and then everything became a frenzy. Arthur’s mouth crashed over Merlin’s, who could hardly keep up as Arthur’s impatience would win out and he’d lift Merlin’s hips to grind himself on Merlin through their fabric.

Merlin’s head fell back, gripping himself through his boxers until he soaked them. Breathless and chest heaving, his body lay limp in the surrounding pillows as he listened…

Nothing. Arthur was sound asleep in a separate room.

The next morning, Merlin restricted his gaze to the lid of his smoothie container and whoever was directly in front of him as he and Arthur found the group of interns waiting for instructions. They all had similar packs of gear on their shoulders and moods varied between chipper and caffeine deprived. Fortunately, after a cup of coffee provided by Merlin and with smoothie in hand, Arthur had transformed into a gracious human being, chatting pleasantly with those who weren’t sleeping on their feet.

The events coordinator they’d met at the orientation dinner greeted them as if she’d had three espressos intravenously consumed. Even Arthur was a bit miffed. “You don’t think she’ll go into cardiac arrest, do you?”

Merlin snorted into his smoothie, earning a few curious glances and several hard pats on the back courtesy of Arthur. They soon boarded the tram which would take them to the outskirts of the city. The carriage was stuffed with students, bags, and commuters while a halo of sound filled every nook as interns reached full consciousness.

At the end of the line, the tram station docked at a platform overlooking a rocky section of the beach. Merlin had his camera out instantaneously, zooming and snapping pictures of the black rocks, the turquoise waves frothing on the—

“Merlin!” Arthur called, and he rotated to catch up with the others. The opposite side of the platform elevated into a hill where a worn trail vanished into the trees. Initially it was lined with rocks, but soon it was a matted length of dirt, leaves, and roots that kept their eyes trained on the ground as often as above. A girl shrieked when a moist patch of leaves swept her leg out from under her, and they heard the telltale _oof!_ and laughter of someone’s unbalanced backpack dragging them to the ground.

“Good grief, cardiac arrest might be the least of our problems,” Arthur muttered.

“The way you do yoga, you’re right,” Merlin jibed.

Arthur turned appalled eyes on him. “How dare you! You couldn’t even see!”

Merlin giggled, “Morgana told me your balance and flexibility were lacking.”

He growled, “I’m miles away and that woman still irks me.”

A ridge of makeshift stairs distracted their conversation since they had to focus on which rocks would hold or where the best patches of dirt made good footholds. On the other side they came upon a creek where they stopped for lunch. Merlin extracted his sandwich, and he was three bites in when he noticed Arthur eating his jerky. He didn’t bother asking whether Arthur had forgotten to pack a lunch, and he silently held out his sandwich.

Arthur inspected it and took a bite. “It’s soggy.”

Merlin’s eyes lolled in his sockets. “Nothing pleases you.” He just managed to catch the smile on Arthur’s face before he took a fuller bite.

They continued on, and Arthur mingled with his colleagues while Merlin discovered a couple of his graphic lab partners were here as well. Arthur peeked at Merlin showing the others the shots on his camera before he laughed with his own compatriots.

In the late afternoon, they arrived in a small clearing where the trees were thin and the ground was flat enough to pitch tents. Arthur’s backpack landed roughly on the ground and he yanked the tent out of it. Unzipping the tightly sealed bag, he pulled on the tent itself, but once the wired lining was free of its confines, the tent leapt out of the bag, smacking Arthur in the face as it landed right side up on the earth.

He turned dumbfounded eyes on Merlin, who was frozen, watching the spectacle with his lips tucked in, desperately trying not to laugh. Arthur straightened his shoulders proudly. “If Morgana hears a word of this, I’m coming straight for you.”

Merlin’s giggles broke through as he handed Arthur the stakes and a mallet. Arthur had one corner nailed to the ground before he whirled around, “That includes Gwaine and Lancel!”

“Fine, fine,” Merlin agreed, but his tone was still filled with mirth. He crawled inside the tent to unroll their mats and sleeping bags, only to frown at the result. “Arthur, your sleeping bag takes up the whole tent!”

“Well it is meant for two people,” he scoffed from the outside.

“Why did you bring a sleeping bag for two people?” Merlin asked, although he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“Guinevere mentioned she’d like to spend more time outdoors, once,” Arthur explained. “I’d intended to surprise her with a trip, but schedules conflicted and it never happened.”

Merlin did not have an answer for that. He folded the sleeping bag in half and exited the tent to find Arthur distracted with helping the others with their tents. After creating a ring of stones for a fire pit later on, Merlin told their neighbors he was going for a walk.

Twenty or so minutes later, Arthur returned to their tent with homemade chocolates from one of the generous people he’d assisted. “Merlin, get out here, I come bearing treats.”

When no answer came, he crouched to peer inside the empty tent, and then pivoted to scan the campground. The artists camping next to them had been with Merlin for the majority of the afternoon, so Arthur approached them.

“Yeah, he went for a walk,” one of them replied, and pointed in the direction. “He said he wanted to see the lake right over there.”

A thin trail, nearly overgrown by grass peeked out of the shrubbery, but as soon as Arthur crested a steep knoll, a wide expanse of water opened up before him. The lake was a surprising mixture of blues and greens near the shore, and it became a perfect mirror of the sky in the center. Merlin was to Arthur’s far right, sitting on the pebbly shore with a bag as well as his camera on his lap. When he heard Arthur’s tread on the stones, Merlin’s head swiveled, caught with a mouthful of yogurt berries in his mouth.

Arthur chuckled, “Be unhealthy for a minute and try these with me. The girls in the bright blue tent made them.”

“Chocolate truffles?” Merlin observed when the small bag was handed to him. Plucking a square one, he bit half of it to inspect the mousse within, but the taste was deceptive. “Mm! Mm…” he frowned, puzzling. “It’s like…chocolate mousse meets orange cream…”

He popped in the other half while Arthur chewed on a spherical one. “Cherry…and coconut?”

Merlin waited for his confusion to clear but when it didn’t he laughed, “Is it bad?”

“No,” Arthur admitted, “just unusual.”

Merlin took a round one as well, but this time he stopped chewing at the unfamiliar blend of flavors. Arthur’s eyebrows reached up and he wondered, “Verdict?”

“Blueberry and lavender,” Merlin deduced.

Arthur chortled and shook his head as he set the bag down. “How are you holding up? Your cheeks were red the whole time.”

“It’s because I’m pale,” he complained mildly. “I’m fine.”

“Not as much as before,” Arthur observed. “The sun is doing you a world of good.”

Merlin was not sure how to reply, so their conversation fell silent. Clouds were lethargically moving across the sky, slowly gathering into storms that would hit later in the week. Merlin watched them from the mirror in the lake, his mind drifted similarly through the depths of his thoughts until Arthur said, “I haven’t really seen you all week. How did it go?”

The corners of Merlin’s mouth turned up. “It went well. The work is intensive but the people are nice…”

“Stop doing that,” he curtailed. Merlin turned to meet Arthur’s gaze, but his eyes were hooded in an annoyed frown. He waved a finger in the air, gesturing to Merlin’s face. “That…fake smile thing you do. Use it for everyone else if you have to, but not around me.”

Merlin’s features drooped into a frown and involuntarily twitched, trying to reform that smile and hide his discomfort. “What do you want to see?”

Arthur’s glare was sharp. “I want to see _you,_ Merlin,” he chided mildly. “I don’t want any masks between us. If you’re unhappy, let me see it.”

“Why?” Merlin murmured.

He could hear Arthur’s exhale before he said, “Because you’re my friend, and you’ve never lied to me. Don’t start now.”

Merlin’s chin dropped, but Arthur let him have his moment. Merlin had to rub a hand over his face to remind it not to smile unnecessarily. When his features were under control, his hand fell and Arthur leaned forward to see under his bowed head. “Why are you sad now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. His eyes lifted to gaze out over the lake, the encircling trees… “It’s beautiful here, but it’s lonely.” He shrugged. “It makes me feel sad in a nostalgic way.”

Merlin felt Arthur’s hand gently palm his cranium as he said, “Wow. You’ve got a lot going on in there, don’t you?”

“Don’t tease me,” Merlin whined quietly.

“I’m not,” Arthur assured, “but it may be possible that you think too much.”

A sharp breath exhaled from his nose. “Yeah, well there’s a pill for that, but I don’t take it.”

“Good,” Arthur surprised him. His hand slid down Merlin’s scalp to rest on his shoulder. “It would make you _dull,”_ he warned.

Merlin felt himself chuckling. “We can’t have that.”

“Of course not,” Arthur agreed, and clapped his shoulder. “It’s getting dark. Let’s make our fire and eat something more substantial. I saw the event coordinator fidgeting with skewers and chicken breasts. If she hasn’t keeled over, those should be cooking right about now.”

He held his arm out and grasped Merlin’s forearm to help him to his feet. Once they returned to the campsite, there was indeed an odor of pineapple marinade and chicken floating in the air. Merlin and Arthur cheated with lighter fluid and a match for their campfire before gathering around to pile chicken, beans, and smore ingredients on their paper plates. After eating, they held the marshmallows aloft on their metal forks until either the marshmallow was golden or the metal became too hot to bear. Arthur’s colleagues as well as Merlin’s circled around their fire, providing amusement and even ukulele music until it came time to seal themselves up in their tents.

Merlin and Arthur spat out toothpaste over the leaves while they brushed and used bottled water to rinse. Arthur kicked dirt over the embers before he zipped their tent shut, and burrowed inside his massive cocoon of a sleeping bag. An owl hooted far away, singing huskily as Arthur settled on his pillow and let himself drift toward sleep…

Merlin did the same, except he rolled over for a better position, and then rolled back. His sleeping bag rustled loudly as he wondered if he should have risked bringing another pillow, not that it did any good now.

When he finally did settle on his back, he noticed a different problem: the temperature was dropping rapidly. He returned his glasses to his face, looking around for something that might be of use. Instead of a pillow, he should have brought a couple blankets…

“Merlin, stop moving,” Arthur ordered when he rolled onto his side.

“The temperature’s dropping,” he said by way of explanation.

“Oh?” Arthur chimed, and Merlin knew sass was soon to follow. “I hadn’t noticed. I’m so comfortable in _my_ sleeping bag.”

Merlin glared daggers into the back of Arthur’s head. For a long moment, he considered just toughing it out, but as the seconds ticked by, he knew he’d never last. “Arthur, I’m cold,” he challenged. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Hmm…” Arthur pondered, rolling slightly onto his back so he could stare at the roof of their tent contemplatively. “First, I’m going to remind you that I was right in bringing this. Then—”

_“Arthur.”_

He sighed at being interrupted and unfolded the bag so it once more accommodated two people. “Get in here. Bring your mat.”

Merlin hopped up and slid his mat underneath his side of the sleeping bag. Planting his pillow down, he set his glasses in a memorable place and slid himself into the dark, warm confines. _“Oh,”_ he shuddered, rolling onto his stomach as heat immediately seeped into his bones. “It’s like a dragon egg in here. Is it filled with down feathers?”

“Yes,” Arthur rumbled triumphantly. “Do you have anything else to say?”

“Certainly not thank you.”

“Merlin.”

“Nor that you were right.”

Arthur sighed theatrically and Merlin smiled unabashedly. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

Arthur did not know at what time the owl stopped singing, nor when it traded stages with a wren, but his eyes opened when an entirely different sound reached his ears. It was still dark, but the smell of dawn was in the air. He’d fallen asleep so suddenly and thoroughly that it felt like just minutes ago…

He also did not remember curling around Merlin. Arthur lifted his lips from where they rested in the crook of his neck, inadvertently nuzzling his soft, black hair. He smelled faintly of sweet conditioner and clean, fresh nature, but there was something else…something soft, a warm spice, and distinctly _Merlin_ in his lungs when he breathed.

Merlin squirmed gently at the feeling of his face on his neck, bringing Arthur’s attention to Merlin’s hand resting on the base of his palm and wrist. His arm was currently Merlin’s pillow, and Merlin’s pinkie was entwined with his thumb. His shoulder blades and spine were nestled flush against Arthur’s chest, same as his pelvis. Their legs diverged under the fabric of the sleeping bag, but their top halves were molded together almost seamlessly.

Before Arthur could amend this situation, the sound reached his ears once more. It was a distinct snort of air through a nose, followed by the fumbling sounds of aluminum on rock. Arthur had never heard claws scrape over rock before, but he imagined that was what met his ears next.

 _“Merlin,”_ he whispered.

His breathing altered but he gave no other signs of consciousness. _“Merlin. Wake up, but don’t make a sound.”_

“Hm?” he hummed weakly. Turning his head slightly toward the sound of his voice, his eyes barely open. Merlin’s hand lifted out of Arthur’s and delicately found his face, feeling his features. “Arthur?”

“Sshh,” he hushed as quietly as he could. With his chin, he pushed Merlin’s head back down, and whispered in his ear, _“I think there’s a bear in the camp. It’s found the bowl of marinade the coordinator left out.”_

The clatter of metal was louder this time, and Arthur could hear as well as feel the terse gasp in Merlin’s lungs. His legs found Arthur’s as he curled deeper under the protective arm Arthur had draped over him. The creature’s licks were audible and Arthur could feel Merlin’s heartbeat against his chest. _“He’s three tents down,”_ he soothed, _“and we cleaned up properly. It could move on in a few minutes.”_

 _“Bears ransack campsites,”_ Merlin hissed, although it was so quiet it was hardly more than a silent motion of his lips.

 _“It could be foxes,”_ Arthur reasoned. _“I’ve only heard it.”_

He felt Merlin’s swallow on his arm and Arthur nuzzled his neck once more. _“Just be still.”_

 _“I’m too skinny to be appetizing,”_ Merlin reasoned.

_“You’re right. It will have me and then use you for a tooth pick.”_

_“That is not funny!”_ Merlin hissed, but Arthur chuckled against his neck and splayed his hand across Merlin’s chest.

_“Breathe, Merlin. Your heartbeat is wild.”_

His breath jumped again when they heard sniffing closer this time. Both he and Arthur were silent as they waited, holding their breaths as they waited for more sniffing, a body to graze their tent—

“GAAAHHH! GET OUT! GET OUT! YOU FILTHY, ORANGE VERMIN!” they heard the coordinator screech.

“Well that’s a harsh way to address foxesSAAAAAHH!” Arthur japed before he and Merlin cried out when the pair of foxes barreled right into the nylon of their tent. Merlin’s body slammed into Arthur’s and they lurched back several inches as the creatures bounced out of the material and scampered away. Merlin and Arthur clung to one another, the latter’s arms tighter than ever around Merlin, who rose and fell in time with Arthur’s breaths.

Merlin’s entire body went slack, so much so he seemed to sink into the earth. Arthur briefly wondered if he’d fainted until he rolled over and unconsciously fitted himself against Arthur’s body, pressing his face into his chest. “It’s too early for this,” he declared, eyes closed. He startled at the guttural screech of foxes hissing and snarling their way out of the campsite.

Arthur’s rigid form relaxed alongside his, not even caring if he still held Merlin in his arms. “Agreed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're confused, by "euro," I mean the Mediterranean sandwich, not the currency haha. "Gyro" and "euro" are synonymous.


	16. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets his Christmas gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WOOOOO!

Merlin set aside Sunday to work on his graphic art projects, and Arthur was preoccupied with the first preparations for a debate competition later in the month. The only interruption was Mithian stopping by to ask how the trip was and to make arrangements to go dancing the following weekend. Merlin promised to tell her about the foxes when they met up for dinner and dancing.

As for the second week, however, it passed much as the first. Arthur and Merlin awoke after the wildlife incident better refreshed, hiked back into town, and got to work with hardly any interaction. Arthur seemed to have finally mastered the coffeemaker as well, and he resorted to silently leaving in the mornings with caffeine as his breakfast. Merlin left lunch for him since he suspected the man wouldn’t eat otherwise, and managed to snag a second doughnut for him on Monday.

Come Thursday evening, Merlin dragged his feet into the flat and nearly threw the bag of Greek food at Arthur’s head before he collapsed on the couch. Arthur stared at him vacantly until the smell of grilled lamb reached his nostrils. “It’s not soggy this time, I hope.”

“Shut up,” said Merlin’s muffled voice. “It’s been two weeks and I’m dead.”

“You know, Merlin,” Arthur redirected. The paper bag crumpled as he extracted the food. “Though I admire your gifts of cuisine, there is a particular something you have yet to gift me.”

“It’s not Christmas,” Merlin muffled.

“No, but Monday is, and really, what’s three days’ difference?”

Merlin peered at him through his lopsided spectacles. “Do you really want it now?”

Arthur shot a mild glare over his food. “I can’t make the invitation more apparent.”

Gathering his motivation, Merlin lifted himself off the couch and went to his room. Rummaging in the depths of his dresser, he found the box.

“Oh, you actually wrapped it,” Arthur observed, plucking the satin ribbon off. He tore through the paper and wriggled the lid off the box that was noticeably larger than the one in which Merlin’s scarf had come. He lifted the deep crimson garment and the box fell away. “Um…Merlin, it’s large enough to fit both of us.”

Merlin’s hands were on his hips as his chin lifted in a scoff. “It’s oversized _on purpose._ One of these days, you’re actually going to get cold, and you’re going to be glad Merlin gave you this. How considerate of him. And the embroidery is mine.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed and he examined the garment again. It was not an overly plush sweater; almost more like a large, long-sleeve shirt, but along the cuffs and collar were golden threads forming a triangular design. It was surprisingly not gaudy; the threads only shimmered when the light caught them.

Without further ado, Arthur pulled it on over his white t-shirt. His hair sprang free through the collar, and it dropped comfortably just under his hips. “Do I look like a red marshmallow?”

Merlin’s eyes rolled but a small, proud smile curved his lips. “No. Go find a mirror if you’re so skeptical.”

He went to the floor length mirror on the back of their front door. Merlin suppressed his giggle when Arthur actually twisted his hips to examine the back. “Wow…not bad. I look like a dopey hipster, now.”

Merlin’s shoulders slumped and he grumbled, “That’s obviously the extent of the gratitude I’ll get.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t wear his scarf,” Arthur jabbed, inspecting the design on his cuff.

Merlin sighed loudly and strode back to his room. He emerged angrily swinging the white cashmere and silk around his neck. “It’s right here. Happy?”

Arthur looked up as if he were glancing at the television. “It hardly matters in a temperature-regulated apartment.”

“I was planning on wearing it during Christmas, you crimson clot pole,” Merlin retorted.

Arthur chuckled and relinquished the point. He switched to, “You and Mithian have plans tomorrow?”

“Yep, but Freya’s coming for part of it. Do you want to come?”

“What is entailed?”

“Dinner, drinks if you want, and dancing,” Merlin relayed. “Similar to last time.”

Arthur thought about it as he drew the sweater over his head and folded it. “Yes…I think I will.”

Merlin visibly brightened. Taking their gifts, they retired to their rooms and slept in late the following morning. When he did wake, Merlin made enough breakfast for himself as well as Arthur and retreated to his room to get work done before the long night. The sky was steel grey all day and the temperature was steadily plummeting every hour. When the hour came to go to dinner, Arthur and Merlin knocked on the ladies’ door and smiled expectantly while they donned their coats.

The restaurant above the club proved to be delicious and shockingly upscale for the shenanigans that ensued below. Their table stood near an aquarium featuring blue lobsters scuttling beneath angel fist and puffer fish. Another surprise came in the complimentary appetizer set down by the waitress: seasoned potatoes, cut julienne as well as circular.

“Chips!” Mithian greeted eagerly, plucking one from the basket and immediately pushing it away when she tasted it. “Oh god, take them away or I’ll never finish my meal.”

The others shared a laugh and devoured the basket’s contents before their main dishes were set before them. They raised their glasses—Mithian and Merlin with wine, Freya with a fruity mixed beverage, and Arthur with beer—for a Christmas toast and dived in. Arthur sat next to Merlin in the semicircular booth; when he turned to speak with him, his breath smelled faintly of lemony beer, but Merlin did not mind. By the time they meandered down to the club, their buzzes were fresh and they were able to leave their coats in the restaurant’s cloakroom.

This time around, they explored a different room of the establishment, one with glistening things hanging from the ceiling that looked suspiciously like sparkly mistletoe. A length of wall was half a booth while tables were spaced along the plush seats. The four of them claimed a table for themselves, and they huddled on the booth seat so as to not take up too much space. Freya remained for another drink but when she wanted to go, Arthur offered to take her and come back.

In the meantime, Mithian pulled Merlin onto the dance floor. When she chose the place, he took both her hands and moved with her. They found their rhythm much faster than the first occasion they danced, but were still inventive with their physical rapport, interchanging between classical dancing and goofy modern interpretations as the music or their mood dictated.

At one point Mithian leaned in to shout over the music, “Arthur’s back.”

Merlin looked over his shoulder to see Arthur making his way to a free table. “Hold our space!” he called, and went to bring Arthur into the fold. No sooner were his jeans on the seat then Arthur perked up at Merlin hovering over him. “Come dance with us.”

Arthur blinked, baffled that he’d been noticed so quickly, and also by the dewdrops of sweat accentuating Merlin’s brow and cheeks. Merlin’s smile was bright and warm, blinding Arthur before he managed, “I’m not a fairy, Merlin.”

Those sapphire eyes narrowed, scheming. “If anything, I’m a sorcerer. Get off your ass, and dance with me.”

Arthur arched a brow but he appeared only mildly bothered. “Charming,” he quipped before he waved for Merlin to lead the way.

Mithian smiled when they approached and leaned up on her toes to kiss Arthur’s cheek before the three of them danced together. Merlin hadn’t paid much attention the last time he was with Arthur dancing, but now he caught the smiles on his lips, and he laughed when Mithian took his hands to lead him around.

Merlin found himself in a small group of strangers, but they didn’t seem to mind him, nor vice versa. They danced together until Mithian grabbed Merlin’s shoulders and spun him around to dance with her, except one of the men in the group met her gaze and she casually pushed Merlin toward Arthur. He stared at her warily, but she licked her lips with a wink, and danced with her swarthy admirer.

Merlin faced Arthur, who seemed blissfully buzzed and ignorant. They smiled at each other and waved their frames along with the beat. When Arthur’s mouth opened, Merlin leaned in to hear what he wanted to say, only to feel an iron weight slam into his backside. He collapsed against Arthur, who caught him and waved off the person’s apology.

“Are you all right?” he said into Merlin’s hair.

Merlin looked up and simply smiled and nodded. He stepped away somewhat and felt Arthur’s hands linger on his waist. Merlin instantly paused, halting his retreat so Arthur would have to remove his hands if he really wanted to. After a moment he did, but the space between them was much thinner than before. Merlin experimentally placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, only briefly as if for balance, but the second time he did, one of Arthur’s hands found his waist. In those short moments, they writhed together, feeling the music fill their veins.

Mithian surprised Merlin by appearing beside him and saying in his ear, “I’ve got mine, have fun with yours!”

He gave her a puzzled look and she gestured over her shoulder at the swarthy dancer waiting for her to leave. Merlin’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re sure?”

“Oh _yes,”_ she winked again. “If he’s anything in bed like he is on the dance floor, I will sleep _well.”_

Merlin guffawed and wished her well. Arthur leaned down for the news and his laughter boomed. Another minute later he informed, “It was beginning to sprinkle when I took Freya back. We should leave soon.”

Merlin nodded and let him lead the way to the cloakroom. When they burst outside, Merlin exclaimed and hugged himself. “Ah! It’s _cold.”_

Arthur was laughing again for different reasons. “I really shouldn’t be surprised. The way Mithian works, she certainly goes after what she wants. Thank the stars she’s on my team in the debate.”

“I didn’t expect her to find what she wanted in the club,” Merlin admitted, blinking against the raindrops that made it past his lenses. The sky had not yet unleashed, but Merlin could feel his tresses moistening quickly beneath the icy drops. His gaze went out across the sand, and the empty boardwalk. At this time of night, only a few restaurants and underground clubs were open. Arthur drew Merlin’s arm into the bend of his own as they made their way back to their apartment building.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur said spontaneously.

Merlin paused on the boardwalk, stunned. “Wait—what?” he laughed.

“If you hold this against me, I will firmly deny ever having said it,” Arthur chuckled, “but _thank you_ …for getting me off my ass. These last two weeks have been just as stressful for me as they have been for you.”

He pivoted to face Merlin fully. Maybe it was the lingering alcohol in his system or the shockingly cold raindrops seeping into the fabric of his clothes, but Merlin felt giddy and invigorated. “Well,” he said bashfully, scuffing his heel on the wood beneath him, “everyone needs a kick in the ass sometimes.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur scoffed, “but this is all one big preamble to the fact that you dumbed down your dancing for me.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped in mock bafflement. “I would never!”

He swayed on his feet and Arthur smirked, catching him by his waist. “You do realize that man was looking at you before he ever noticed Mithian?”

Merlin’s mouth closed as he processed that. His hands had found holds on Arthur’s shoulders and he rocked on his feet again. “Well my eyes tend to be elsewhere,” he admitted, and rocked right up to Arthur’s lips.

And in that instant, he knew he’d just done something incredibly wrong.

Merlin’s lips drew back but Arthur’s shove was faster, and Merlin stumbled back a couple paces. He turned wide eyes up to see Arthur holding a hand to his lips. “What the hell was THAT?” he bellowed, and wiped his mouth.

“I-I-I thought…” Merlin stammered. His eyes were pulled wherever that hand went, his kiss no longer on Arthur’s lips, and perhaps never was.

“Thought WHAT?” Arthur demanded. “I’m not GAY, MERLIN!”

“No, b-but you’re…” Merlin stammered. At the expectant, appalled expression in Arthur’s eyes, he barely finished his sentence in an audible tone. “You’re bisexual…”

Arthur visibly paled and reared back from Merlin as if he’d just turned inside out. “I’m _what?”_ he demanded. “Why would you possibly think that?”

_Just lie._

Merlin frowned, answering honestly, “The others said…and you’ve been flirting with me…”

Arthur recoiled. “I was _being nice,_ Merlin! That isn’t an invitation to stick your tongue down my throat!”

_It’s sick, all right? Nobody wants to know that!_

Old embers sparked in Merlin’s belly. “I didn’t! You’re only reacting like this because I’m right!”

Blue flames flickering in Arthur’s eyes and every fiber in Merlin’s body told him to cower and run, but he didn’t. He stoked them. “You can’t honestly tell me everything that’s happened over the last two weeks isn’t flirting, Arthur! Even before then! We’ve slept in the same bed three times! You follow me around like I might break!”

Arthur stepped toe to toe with him. “BECAUSE YOU NEVER CALL FOR HELP! For fucking Christ, Merlin! My uncle nearly raped you! And you never said a word about it!”

“Because I’ve already been r-wr…!” Merlin barked before he rapidly deflated.

Arthur’s eyes widened. “What? What was that?”

_For fuck’s sake, Merlin, just lie._

He could see the cogs turning behind Arthur’s livid eyes, and he could feel his body start to tremble, silently pleading for him not to say it: “You’ve…already been raped?”

Merlin thought his lungs might have stopped working. Arthur shook his head. “What am I supposed to do with that information?”

_Lie until you stop being a needy cunt…_

_I’m not a cunt. I’m in love, or I thought I was…_

“I don’t know!” he shouted. “But I thought…fuck, I thought…I thought you liked me back, and…I thought I was ready…”

Arthur gaped at him. “Ready for what? A relationship? Even if I was interested, did you ever consider telling me that critical _piece_ of information first? Never mind not telling me you prefer men when you’re on a date with a woman!”

“This wasn’t a date!” Merlin cried. His hands were frozen into fists at his sides. “Mithian knows! Everyone fucking knows except YOU! Even Uther does! Here’s your announcement, Arthur: I’M GAY! Is it obvious enough for you, now?”

Arthur’s hand lifted, causing Merlin to take an instant step back. Arthur didn’t hit him but gestured in the air while he spoke. “DON’T BRING MY FATHER INTO THIS! He’s always on my back and I thought you were the one person who could get him off! You can’t just spring this sort of shit on me, MERLIN!”

_Don’t be proud. It’s fucking sick, and you’re so blimey proud. There’s something wrong with you, you know that?_

_There's nothing wrong with me...There isn't. There can't be._

“Out of all my friends—even my fucking SISTER—you were the one who was willing to confront me about Gwen! YOU were the one who told me I could still trust them, and here you were, the whole time, deceiving me!”

_You know where shit goes? In the ground. Not on someone’s cock, and it doesn’t get the attention you’ve been getting._

“Even if…Even if I…” Arthur sputtered, as if he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. “Even if! It can’t ever happen! It won’t ever happen! Don’t misinterpret this, Merlin! I thought I knew you and now you’re a stranger to me. If I can’t trust you…then I don’t want you. You’re worthless to me.”

_It's disgusting. What does that make you? The sooner you learn that, the better._

Suddenly, Merlin’s voice wasn’t a yell, and compared to Arthur’s temper, it was a whisper. “You don’t have to return my feelings…” he uttered, no longer able to feel his limbs. Everything was cold. “But I expected something…something else.”

Arthur’s anger paused to reveal confusion. “What?”

“I didn’t expect to hear Uther, not Arthur…but he’s trained you well.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Arthur demanded.

“Your father knows you’re bisexual,” Merlin explained in a monotone, “and he told me to stay away.” His mouth twitched into a smile. “Here I thought I was being brave…”

Arthur grimaced. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this? How many times did he confront you? Actually, don’t answer that. All of this is idiotic because I still have Guinevere kissing Lancel branded into my retinas. My father never had need to approach you like that, and you should have told me. You were both out of line.”

“You’re so frightened of committing to a person, aren’t you?” Merlin shot back, his anger flaring again. “You’re so pissed at Gwen for leaving when she finally figured it out that you weren't letting her in, and now you’re doing the same to me! You might have her and Lancel burned into your eyes but I have you kissing her forehead branded in mine! I see you two holding hands when I shut my eyes; I hear you talking about surprises for _her._ Even though you never fully let her in, I saw every single sweet thing you did for her, and I…”

His voice was shaking. Merlin clamped a hand over his mouth, willing it to be strong, for his tears not to mix with the raindrops on his face. “I _want_ it, Arthur,” he sobbed.

Arthur watched Merlin unravel with an expression caught between disgust and shame. Merlin sniffed sharply, inside out before him. After a long minute, Arthur said, “Enough. We’ll catch pneumonia.”

With nothing else, he marched toward the flat. Merlin followed at a slower pace. Arthur eventually vanished from his view, but he left the door open for him, and Merlin shut the door before entering his bathroom. He turned the shower on, and sat on the floor, clothes, coat, glasses and all, waiting for the heat to return to his frigid bones while the sobs tore from him freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you're really hating this double update now...


	17. Far Enough

Arthur angrily fished his cell out of his pocket. It took him so long it stopped ringing, but because the chimes instantly picked up again, he knew it could only be one person.

“WHAT?” he barked.

“Woah, attitude,” Morgana purred. “I think the last person to feel this way on Christmas was Mary, and that was because she pushed a human being through her vaginal canal. What’s your excuse?”

“Sorry,” he said gruffly. He ignored the prying eyes of passersby as he strode through the city. “We have the Monday off but only because we need the day to finish work, not to celebrate a holiday.”

“Mmph,” she hummed like she didn’t care for his apology or excuse. On a lighter note, she said, “I managed to get a tree into the house! Can you believe it? I’ll send you a picture in a minute. It’s a shame you’re not here to see it, our first Christmas tree in years—”

“Did you know Merlin’s gay?” he blurted, and immediately regretted it. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and applied pressure between his brows…

Morgana was silent for a long time, causing him to open his eyes as if he might see her standing next to him. “What did you do?” she murmured.

Arthur stared dumbly at the pavement. “What did I…What do you mean, what did I do? You really knew about this?”

Morgana’s voice was far away, suggesting she had pulled the phone away from her ear to type texts. That didn’t stop her anger from coming through. “YES! He hasn’t been answering his messages! I didn’t think anything of it—I thought he was busy with the holidays, WITH YOU! Goddamn it, Arthur, start talking!”

Merlin’s eyes creaked open, or rather, one eye managed to since his other was smushed against his pillow. His phone was vibrating furiously with several text messages coming through. He scrolled up to read them in order:

 _Hi, darling! Just sending love and Happy Christmas!_ his mother wrote.

 _I hope you don’t mind, your mother gave me your number. How is the internship? You’re not too overworked, I hope? Happy Christmas, Merlin,_ his father sent.

_MERLIN! IT’S CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS! I’ll drink a pint for you, mate. Can’t wait to see you! XOXOXO from your beloved Gwaine._

_I can hear Gwaine typing across the room so I thought it best to intercept with a milder greeting,_ Lancel typed. Along with the message was a selfie with him and Gwen wishing him seasons greetings.

 _Happy Christmas, sweetie!_ Morgana sent. _When you get a chance, you will have to tell me all about things ;)_

Then Lancel had sent another text, _Hey, Morgana sent out an SOS. What’s up?_

Then Gwaine, _MERLIN ANSWER THIS TEXT OR I WILL CHARGE THAT FLAT DOOR DOWN WITH A CHRISTMAS TREE._

His phone vibrated again, this time with a call. “Hi.”

“Merlin?” Lancel’s voice worried.

“Yes, I’m alive. You can stop sending texts.”

“You barely sound alive. What happened? Morgana didn’t say much, just that we needed to check on you immediately.”

Merlin squirmed onto his side to free his mouth from the pillow. His body curled in on itself while he inhaled and exhaled for strength. “Arthur doesn’t like me.”

“What do you mean?” Lancel asked gently. “Start from the beginning.”

Morgana did that eerie pause again that made Arthur feel like he was about to be electrocuted through the phone. “Let me get this straight: you had a heartfelt moment by a lake in which you explicitly told Merlin to be honest with you in both word and emotion…and then you threw it back in his face.”

Arthur sighed heavily. He’d ultimately just stopped in a small park to lean against a tree and speak with her instead of trying to navigate the streets as well as Morgana’s temper. “I…may have over reacted—”

“MAY HAVE OVER REACTED?” she roared.

“HE CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD!” he matched. “What was I supposed to do? I wasn’t ready for that kind of confession!”

“So you thought it was a fabulous idea to shove him away and hypocritically ostracize him? God, you _know_ how sensitive he is! After Agravaine, I would have _thought_ you would have had a fucking clue how to turn him down gently, although why you would do such a thing is beyond me!”

“I can’t date a man, Morgana! You know this!”

“Oh fuck off. Merlin’s been in love with you for months, and everyone could see how fond you were of him. What’s stopping you? Uther? Last I checked, you were a grown man who could make his own decisions, not to mention that if _Uther_ is your role model, then you might as well do yourself a favor and not come home. Uther is broken and irreparable, and it’s debatable whether he was sparkling to begin with.”

“Morgana,” Arthur began darkly, but she cut him off.

“DON’T YOU DARE DEFEND HIM! I watched him for _years_ suppress and abuse you. Do you remember painting? You and Mom used to paint together, and you _were actually good at it._ Then she passed away, and Uther threw your paints and canvases into the garbage because he couldn’t stand being reminded of her. You, me, and Mom used to play in the garden together; she’d find us playing in her fountain. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA what would have happened if I hadn’t learned to stand on my own fucking legs and battled him?”

Arthur could hear her tears through the phone, but her voice was powerful and unwavering. “Uther is a broken mirror, and you’re looking right at it.”

Morgana’s voice was unnaturally calm as she finished, “You know, Arthur, I’ve never actually been disappointed in you. I didn’t think I could be, but you’ve proven a lot of people wrong by letting your stupid pride get in the way.”

Arthur heard the line go dead, but the mobile was frozen to his ear. It wasn’t until a breeze passed by that he felt the tears on his face.

“Fuck…” Lancel’s voice exhaled. “That’s not fair at all.”

“Fair?” Gwaine’s voice countered. Upon exiting the shower, Gwaine had heard Lancel talking on the phone and demanded to be a part of the conversation. He was remarkably calm, contrary to his caps lock texts. “It’s nowhere near fair. It’s cruel. I knew Arthur was arrogant and even moronic at times, but I never would have imagined cruelty was in his repertoire. He hasn’t apologized, either?”

“I haven’t seen him since,” Merlin confirmed, sniffling. He’d done a lot of crying in the past two days; it was hardly unusual now.

There was a pause, and then Gwaine admitted, “At least there are only two weeks left. What are you doing for New Years?”

“Working. Avoiding Arthur,” he answered honestly.

“They have you working on New Years?” Lancel wondered.

“It’s optional,” he explained.

“You should do something better with your time, mate,” Gwaine soothed. “You’ve made friends there, yeah? Go out with them, even if you’re just staring at walls. Don’t invite Arthur. The walls are too good for him.”

Merlin huffed a breath which might have been a laugh under different circumstances. “I’m going to bathe. I haven’t gotten up much since…”

“Eat something, Merlin,” Lancel commanded gently. “Call us later today, yeah?”

“Sure,” he murmured.

Gwaine counteracted, “Merlin, you should know that my parents are obscenely rich, and I am not above extorting their money on a plane ticket to pick your ass up. If you don’t call, I’m coming.”

Merlin’s laugh was a little more genuine this time. “Fine, I’ll call.”

“Good man. Happy Christmas. Forget the idiot and feast on figgy pudding.”

They hung up and Merlin dumped his raiment on the floor before stepping under the torrent of water. Afterward, he dressed in his large, blue sweater and grey pencil jeans to venture outdoors. Miraculously, a grocery store was open today, so he went in and purchased some items, including a couple bath bombs to hopefully occupy his time. The store clerk gave him a curious glance when she ran the bath bombs over the scanner, but he focused on counting his coins and hurried out of the store.

That evening, though, after he’d cooked dinner and nibbled a few bites, he wound up dropping one of the bombs in the tub. He waited for the fizzing sphere to bubble up along the water’s surface, and slipped under the aromatic suds. They smelled of rosemary and rain, and he rested in them until the water was cold. He called Lancel briefly, to wish him and Gwaine goodnight, and then curled under his sheets.

Arthur returned after dark, his eyes barely open and his feet dragging. He’d managed to occupy his time and thoughts by getting ahead for the workweek, but the effect was extreme fatigue. He only just noticed the folded paper on the counter in passing. The paper tent read, _Food in oven._

Doubling over, Arthur opened the oven and lifted the tin foil off a whole chicken stuffed with what smelled like savory bread and cranberries. Merlin had obviously picked at it, but overall it looked untouched, juicy, and beckoning. Stripping a piece off, Arthur bit into it and swayed on his feet. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He took the lukewarm pyrex dish out with his bare hands and ate over the stove with his fingers before the tryptophan sent him to sleep.

The following morning, Freya greeted Merlin in the laboratory. “Happy belated Christmas, Merlin. Or…Boxing Day, I guess.”

He gave her a smile. “You too.”

She turned away to work on her specimens, but Merlin could feel her gaze return to him. “You seem different.”

His expression was guarded. “Do I?”

“Not in a good way,” she stated bluntly.

Merlin added cucumbers to his mental list for the grocery as he unconsciously swiped a finger beneath a sunken eye. After a certain point, his eyes had stopped swelling and simply sank into his sockets. “Thanks for your honesty.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did.”

“It’s okay,” Merlin accepted without looking up. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

Freya’s stillness was palpable. After a moment she asked, “Did something happen with Arthur?”

Merlin’s fingers paused and his teeth lightly ground together. “No. We’re not together, so nothing could happen.”

“But…the _not_ being together is hurting you?” she deciphered.

Merlin sighed. “I’m sorry, but can we not talk about this?”

“I’m prying,” she realized. “Yes, of course, sorry I…”

“I know,” Merlin nodded, proffering a kind smile. “Thanks.”

Oddly enough, the small amount of compassion Freya offered lifted Merlin’s spirits enough to continue the day with ease. He waved to her when he was leaving the laboratory and the graphic team had doughnuts waiting since Christmas had bumped their Monday ritual to Tuesday.

Merlin never expected Arthur to be awake when he returned to the flat. He stepped in with his head down and music in his ears, turning to shut the door quietly and not wake the dragon—

But he was standing in the kitchen, eating the last of the stuffing from the chicken. He looked up beneath his brows, and his eyes flicked down onto the white scarf around Merlin’s neck. Merlin turned on a dime and marched to his room.

“Merlin.”

The single word sliced through the music thrumming in his ears, inducing him to reluctantly pluck the useless ear buds out and rotate to face Arthur, regretting his choice of scarf today. _Why couldn’t you have just worn the red one, or the green one, the black one, no scarf at all—worn a fucking sheet around your head instead of the white one that’s a homing device—_

“We need to talk.”

“About what?” he responded mutely.

Arthur gave him a look that suggested he was seeking patience. “Friday night.”

“I think a spelunking trip is planned—”

 _“Last_ Friday.”

Merlin’s weight shifted from foot to foot, and he glanced down as if to beg them to keep his body upright. “We don’t have to. Things were made clear enough.”

“No they weren't,” Arthur combatted. He set the food down and crossed his arms over his chest, anchoring himself for what was to come. “I judged you too soon. I ought to know more about you since we have a week and a half left with one another.”

Merlin’s throat constricted in a swallow, but nothing went down. He couldn’t help feeling like Arthur was offering him a moment to speak his last words.

“You were raped.”

The words hovered in the air, like stones above Merlin’s head. He nodded once, a jerk of his chin. Arthur pushed, “By whom?”

“Someone I knew a long time,” he answered quietly, looking anywhere but Arthur.

“What was his name?”

It was more air than voice that came out of Merlin’s throat. _“Will.”_

“What do you mean you knew him a long time?”

He waited for enough saliva to form in order to moisten his throat, “We grew up together.”

When Arthur did not supply another question right away, Merlin peeked up to find his brow deeply furrowed. “How does a lifelong friend do that?”

Merlin’s exhale was ragged before he explained. “He didn’t grow up in a healthy home…we,” he shrugged involuntarily, “we were close…and grew closer, but when we were officially together he was bullied. We broke up, but it didn’t end. I thought he just needed to gather his courage, that if I waited, he’d move out. We went to the same university, and everything was fine…until he was bullied again.”

He inhaled and continued, “He broke it off, but I didn’t understand why. I didn’t understand how much he was hurt over the years and how the scars had festered. I pushed him, but he pushed back…and he felt that he needed to make a point.”

Arthur voice was a just above a snarl. “How does rape prove a point?”

Merlin felt like his throat was swelling up; his mouth opened, trying to breath but he couldn’t get enough air. “He…took pictures…while he did it…and uploaded them to a campus site. I didn’t know…he misjudged the dose of the drugs and I was hospitalized, but when I was discharged…everyone knew I was gay…and…the feedback wasn’t good.”

He sniffled and shakily wiped his nose, his head bowed. “The images were already removed from the campus database and traces from people’s computers were eliminated but when I found out, I confronted him.”

Merlin tentatively lifted a hand, and rubbed his fingertips underneath the hair covering his scarred temple. “I was still weak from being in the hospital, and I didn’t know it then, but he’d accidentally given me mono. I was tired and in no shape to deal with his anger when he saw me. All I wanted was to know why he did it…we’d known each other for years, I thought he could just _tell me_ instead of…doing those things…but he didn’t want to talk. I was hospitalized again, longer because of the mono…”

He shrugged again, his shoulders moving jerkily on their own accord as he held his elbows, hugging himself. “My body hasn’t really recovered,” he finished.

Arthur was silent for so long Merlin squirmed. When his eyes finally lifted, Arthur’s crossed arms were flexed, making him look bigger. Merlin visibly wiggled, exceedingly uncomfortable as he retreated a step, despite being on opposite ends of the room already.

Arthur’s voice was subdued, dark, when he uttered, “He did that to you…and you thought it a good idea to confront him? Was it a surprise when he began beating you?”

Merlin’s brows winced, stung by his words. “I’ve already been told how much of a fool I was. I don’t need you to do it too.”

“All right,” Arthur obliged, “but you can’t be as reckless now as you were then, Merlin. I…” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “yes, I am bisexual, but I don’t come out with it because of those reasons. It’s dangerous. People…my mother…”

“I know,” Merlin curtailed. “Morgana told me. I know she was killed in a terrorist attack against minorities, including homosexuals.”

“Then you understand my perspective,” Arthur reasoned.

“Not entirely, no,” Merlin blurted. Arthur’s chin lifted in surprise, inducing Merlin to explain, “One of the first things Lancel ever said to me, was that he didn’t care if I was gay…but he didn’t say ‘I,’ he said ‘we.’ He was telling me he and Gwaine were fine with me as I was, as well as the rest of the group. He’d known me less than a day and he was bringing me into a support group I’d never had, one that you are already a part of.”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted. “We are not the same. My family is too prominent in a conservative society. If I were to announce or be seen…” he swallowed thickly. “My father would disown me, for one, and any connections our family has would be severed from me—”

“I told you, Uther knows,” Merlin countered wearily. “He’s known since you were four and marrying boys on the playground. It’s just about the only saving grace Uther has: he loves his family.”

Merlin recognized the blue flames igniting in Arthur’s eyes. “I’m tired of people speaking ill of my father. They don’t know how much pain he’s endured—”

“Stop talking,” Merlin huffed, shaking his head jadedly. “Anything you have to say I’ve already heard before. If you want to stand by him, fine. He is your father, and dare I say it, he loves you.”

“Why is that a challenge to say?” Arthur demanded. “Why is it such a shock that he gives a fuck about his family?”

“Arthur, I’ve met my father recently,” Merlin informed, “and already he and I act more familial than I have ever seen Uther treat you. Both you and Morgana refer to him by his name, and you do so to his face. I call my mother’s name because she can’t hear me out of all the other kids shouting _Mom_ in the middle of the farmer’s market. Your house is a cave…a castle with cold walls; a complete contrast to the garden outside.”

“Exactly,” Arthur growled. The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Without my mother...I would have expected you to understand what a broken man is, and how much he needs help, not your condemnation.”

Merlin thought back to his first night with Arthur and the vulnerable moment in which he’d revealed Uther’s infidelity. Morgana’s birthmother was the string that unraveled any defense of Uther’s virtue before his wife's death…but Merlin couldn’t say it. He couldn’t reveal to Arthur how weak he’d been upon meeting Merlin, whom he didn’t even trust now. Somehow, Uther’s hands on Arthur’s puppet strings were also what held him up…and Merlin couldn’t break them.

“Do you have nothing to say?” Arthur challenged, waiting for Merlin’s response. He met Arthur’s gaze, and saw the cracks Uther was leaving behind them; how much fear rested behind his locks, holding his world together. In truth, it didn’t make sense to Merlin, how Arthur could willingly hold so much weight for so many years…but he’d pushed far enough.

“No, I don’t,” he relinquished.

They stood for a moment, and then Arthur snapped the tension by taking steps toward his room. “Then we’re done here.”

“Arthur,” Merlin called. He turned around expectantly. “Are…Are you going on the spelunking trip?”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

Merlin swallowed. “If you’re not going, I will.”

Arthur absorbed that and nodded curtly. “Go on, then.”

His door closed. Merlin was not sure how long he remained standing there, but when he removed his scarf, his neck was cold, rousing him enough to send him to his bed.

A day passed with nary a sight nor sound between the two of them, and when Thursday arrived, Merlin heard Freya’s voice behind him in the lab: “You look worse.”

“Thanks.”

“Really not a compliment,” she warned quietly. “Even the supervisors have noticed. Merlin, what’s wrong?”

He turned dark blue irises to her, the white surrounded them ruddy from days of tears, fatigue, and too much thinking. “Do you remember what you said in the restaurant? About finding a sanctuary in your mind…where you can just be alone?”

Her doe brown eyes softened, but gazed at him keenly. “Yes…”

As depressed as his eyes were, that unnatural smile curved beneath them. The contrast was unsettling. “I don’t want to be alone in my head. I want to be with someone, safe outside of my thoughts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry


	18. Blueberry Scones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finds a way to spend New Years.

Merlin thought long and hard with his phone in hand before he finally typed the message. Then, the device wiggled on his thigh while his knee bounced anxiously. Finally, he pressed Send.

_Hi Dad. If you’re busy, don’t worry about it, but I could use a scone._

The reply was so immediate that Merlin yelped in the middle of the graphic lab. _Blueberry, strawberry, mixed berry, blackberry, or plain?_

Merlin stared vacantly at the screen. He was in the process of typing his choice but then another message came through: _Never mind. Yes to all._

Merlin frowned dumbly. Yes to all? What does that mean? Suddenly, he had the imagery of boxes and boxes of scones being piled inside of his mailbox and then outside his door because his father took the call for help too seriously.

He was about to message him to stop whatever kind of scone deliveries he was arranging, but the managers of the graphic team called everyone’s attention toward a project they were working on, and Merlin had to put his phone away.

After the lab finished, he refilled his water bottle and shrugged on his rucksack before he made his way to the outdoors rental center. He was not sure what equipment he would need for exploring a cave, but he knew he did not have proper footwear. The woman behind the counter greeted him and cheerfully assured all he needed were boots and a hardhat. She offered him a rain jacket since the caves were cold and the stalactites dripped quite a bit, which he accepted and signed his name on the return contract while she went to fetch his things.

“Oh, the caves! I’d forgotten those were here.”

Merlin’s pen paused over the paper as a confused sort of nostalgia filled his brain and he suddenly remembered to whom that voice belonged. The pen clattered over the clipboard. “Dad! Wh-What are you doing here?”

Balinor beamed at his son, and Merlin felt a goofy smile crack his lips at the sight of a rationally small box in his hand. “It was only a two hour flight, so I thought I’d make the journ—”

His breath rushed from his lips when Merlin’s body collided with his; Merlin’s arms were tight around his torso, the corner of his spectacles pressed against his collarbone. “Hold on,” Balinor intercepted as he set the box on the counter. Merlin jerked slightly, suspecting he might have overstepped a boundary, but a gentle hand across his shoulder blades held him in place while Balinor plucked his glasses by the bridge of his nose, and slid them up to rest on his scalp. “Let’s do this properly.”

His other hand guided Merlin’s head back to the crook of his neck, where his face could rest without his eyewear in the way. Merlin’s eyelids felt heavy when his father’s arms tightened protectively around him. He inhaled a shallow breath, and then more deeply when he realized his scent was shockingly familiar, once experienced but never forgotten.

The sound of a throat clearing startled Merlin. Drawing back, he returned his glasses to his face and saw his equipment being set on the counter. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Sure,” the woman nodded, and left to give them their privacy.

“You didn’t have to come,” Merlin said as he stuffed the folded jacket and boots into his sack.

“Yes I did,” Balinor rumbled, taking the hardhat and tucking it under his arm.

“Won’t your colleagues be upset with you?” he wondered.

His father shook his head as if the matter was trivial. “They take their New Years celebrations seriously. For some reason they work to the bone on Christmas but New Years is strictly reserved for champagne and whatever illegal luxuries they can manage. I already have thirty drafts of dismissal e-mails ready.”

Merlin blinked, surprised by such a bold response. “Do you usually sack people after the holidays?”

Balinor nodded as if it was simply a fact of life. “Unfortunately, yes. I can’t say I haven’t grown accustomed to it. Their families are fully compensated for their misdemeanors, though.”

“Oh,” Merlin nodded vacantly, abruptly uninterested in corporate policies. “Erm…should we go to a park or something?” He gestured to the box of scones.

“Don’t you want to drop your things off?” Balinor offered, so Merlin led him to his flat. Arthur was not in it, or perhaps he was on the balcony; they did not stay long enough to find out.

“Last time I was here…” Balinorn pondered when they emerged out of the building. “I believe there was a coffee shop next to a quaint green area just a few blocks over.”

Merlin tucked his red scarf tighter around him and planted his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket while his father led the way. “When do you need to be up in the morning?”

“Seven, I think,” he replied.

“I’ll get you back early enough,” Balinor promised. Despite the stars peeking through the haze of city lights and the chill, people roamed the sidewalks, chatting animatedly or rushing to get home. It was warmer tonight, but Merlin’s chin dropped so his mouth was concealed in his scarf; the soft material brushed his nose pleasantly.

When they reached the coffee shop, Balinor charmed the barista into microwaving the scones while another prepared a pot of tea for them. Merlin toted the box while Balinor carried the tray outside, where a ring of small tables curved around the building to the entrance of the park. A wrought iron fence decoratively barred the entrance while wisteria vines held the door permanently open. Up until this moment, Balinor and Merlin had hardly spoken, but his father’s next question surprised him.

“Would it bother you if I accompanied you tomorrow?”

Merlin hardly noticed the scalding heat of the tea on his lip; his head perked up with his stunned expression. Balinor chuckled and waved a hand. “You’re perfectly all right in saying yes.”

“No! No,” he blurted, setting the cup down with a slight clatter. “I just…didn’t expect any of this.”

He nibbled on a blueberry scone to occupy his hands and mouth. “Obviously you need to get your mind off something. I may not be the best option, but I’ll be exuberant to explore some caves with my son. They are federally protected; it is a crime punishable by death to take or carve from the crystals in the caves.”

Merlin was listening but he was blowing on his tea to cool it instead of replying. Far from being unnerved at the notion of spending a weekend with his father, Merlin feared he would be a boring host. At the Christmas gala, he and Balinor had conversed easily and pleasantly, but now Balinor was happily taking time out of his mountainous schedule and Merlin did not feel up to the task of matching his energy.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Balinor uttered softly, coaxing Merlin to attention.

He held the teacup to his chest, feeling the warmth sift through his raiment and into his sternum. “I kissed Arthur when I shouldn’t have, and now we’re estranged.”

Balinor was statuesque as he absorbed his words, and Merlin could see them tumble in his mind before a strange chuckle escaped him. “Now why would Arthur do that…?”

Puzzled, Merlin asked, “Why are amused?”

Balinor returned to himself and apologized, “I’m sorry, it’s simply that the first impression I have of Arthur was a man holding you tightly in case I revealed myself to be an enemy… Estranged? Is that so?”

Merlin nodded, filling his lungs with the sweet and earthy aroma of tea. “He physically pushed me away and now mentally I can’t reach him.”

“Hm,” his father hummed tersely. “Arthur struck me as a gentleman. That was remarkably rude of him. He’s given you leave to find someone better, though.”

He sipped his tea so contently Merlin could not help but stare at him for a moment before a laugh escaped his lips. The understatement of Arthur’s rudeness and the blasé reminder that the world did not revolve around Arthur was a lightheartedness Merlin needed.

Even so, he felt as if he were walking away from a cake he hadn’t tasted, one promising every nutrient under the sun along with the promise of no sugar crash. Merlin stymied the encroaching dark thoughts by pondering if he should just eat cake instead of pining for Arthur. _It would help with my weight…_

“I am sorry,” Balinor reassured. “Did he give you reasons for his behavior?”

Merlin shifted in his seat. “In his own way. He’s frightened…his mother was killed in an attack against homosexuals and his father became a cracked nut. Morgana, his sister, is one argument away from being disowned, and Arthur feels if he were to date me, he would be as well…I think he also fears a backlash like his mother was caught in, and the repercussions this would have on his father and sister.”

Balinor’s brows lifted. “If you’re right, then he has certainly thought this through. But there is a difference in being gallant, and afraid; and the difference was distinguished when he hurt you. His family isn’t any safer or in danger if he was in a relationship with you. I’m shocked Arthur has a concern with being separated from his father’s name and tutelage, though. He is more than capable of taking care of himself in the workforce.”

Merlin shrugged and drained his cup before pouring a fresh one. It was a comfort seeing the pot held steadily in his hands. “Have you any classes with him next semester?” Balinor wondered.

“I don’t think so, no,” Merlin answered, guessing where this was going.

His father surprised him again by going against his expectations. “Does that give you relief or sadden you?”

Merlin had to take a moment to thing about it. “Both,” he ultimately decided. “I’ve gotten used to him being nearby…but it’s painful being near him now.”

His father nodded his understanding. “Your mother has flown home since it’s about time to replant the bulbs, but Gaius will have an ear and a room open for you if you need it, or I can arrange a plane if you want to see her.”

“Thanks,” Merlin replied, “but I don’t really want to return to that place more often than necessary.”

Balinor’s kind expression faded. “You know, son, there aren’t two options of men. That side of the country is not full of abusive Wills, no more than the opposite is full of frightened Arthurs. There are more scones than just blueberry and black.”

“I know. That doesn’t make it easier to be there. I love Mom and I have good memories in those flower fields, but some kind of shadow always darkens them. At school, now, even with Arthur there, I look forward to my friends and to choir. I’m so close to being finished.”

A small smile returned to Balinor’s face. “Do you know where you would like to work afterwards?”

The conversation moved on to brighter things and explored the future rather than the past or present. When the teapot was empty, Balinor walked Merlin back to the flat and hugged him after promising to meet in the morning with his own hardhat. Merlin was almost to his room when Arthur’s bedroom door opened. He frowned sleepily at the front door and then at Merlin. “Who was that outside?”

He sent a mild glare across the room. If this was Arthur’s strange version of jealousy, it was poorly timed and Merlin was out of patience for it. “My father,” he answered bluntly, and shut the door behind him.

The following morning, Arthur was still slumbering when Merlin slipped out of the flat. Right on time, his father awaited him at the meet point for the group. He stood a little ways from the huddle of interns, looking for all intents and purposes as a man waiting for the tram. Merlin smiled against his coat when he felt his father’s kiss on his hair when they hugged. “Is it not dangerous for you to be here?”

Balinor guffawed. “Are you kindly telling me to leave?”

Merlin’s chin lifted in a scoff. “No, I’m concerned.”

His chuckles faded into a knowing smile. “I can’t imagine a safer place than a bunch of caves.”

When they reached the edge of the city, they took a separate bus to where the entrance of the caves rested like a gaping mouth into the mountainside. Balinor was old and knowledgeable enough that he passed as another tour guide, and after speaking with the coordinator he went unnoticed except for when he gently pulled Merlin into the conversations around them. His father had not been japing when he said he enjoyed interns’ company; he matched their vitality as if silver threads were not in his hair, and the growth of Merlin’s smile was directly correlated with the fluttery, light feeling blooming in his chest.

This was far better than staring at walls.

The smell of earth and flora permeated the opening of the cave while they were given their introduction and told to don their hardhats. Merlin shyly nudged Balinor’s elbow, but one look at his camera, and the man eagerly held the device aloft for them to smile. He even asked someone to take their picture in front of the tendrils of water spilling over the cave mouth, causing Merlin to realize this was it: the strange bubbly feeling of a father embarrassing his son. And he loved it.

The scents of greenery remained above as they delved deeper into the tunnels; stone, water, and coldness filling their lungs except for the occasional heaters wafting warmth against their legs. Merlin felt his ears pop as the guides told them the mile markers of their journey. He shared the last of his granola bars with Balinor while they listened to the history of the caves before their trek continued over steep declines. Merlin shielded his camera in his jacket as a thin waterfall blocked their path, and then rounded the corner to find pale blue light illuminating a high cavern filled with massive shards of white crystal.

Merlin did not realize he was gaping until he lowered his craned chin and saw his father grinning. “I know,” he consoled, “I feel the same every time.”

Merlin let his camera fall so it hung over his abdomen; this was a place to be seen with bare eyes, not through a lens. He was not the only intern marveling at the clusters of crystals as large as their bodies, creating these massive flowers of light thanks to the electric help nestled beneath them.

“Here’s the best part,” Balinor said, calling his attention to a smaller bundle he leaned over. “Place your hand lightly over the peaks,” he directed when Merlin joined him.

Merlin did as his father was, holding his hand aloft and just barely touching the spires of crystal as the man hummed a note deep in his chest. Merlin laughed openly when the sound reverberated through the particles and tickled his palm. “Go on,” his father suggested, “Sing a note.”

Licking his lips, his mind centered on a sound, and he breathed it out. The note trilled up one shaft and then another, rippling along the petals of the crystal flower. By this point Merlin was beaming like a fool and laughing merrily. “It is hard to hear with the commotion,” Balinor explained, “but they echo the sound back to you. The tour guides don’t tell you because if they did, tourists would never leave and the shards would be sold on Amazon.”

The coordinator called from the top of the tiers of rock, informing everyone it was time to leave, and slowly the interns migrated as the tour guides bid. Balinor led the way up the slopes of rock and was turning the corner when Merlin rotated to take a shot of the empty cavern in all of its luminescent glory. One was enough, so he quickly spun on the ball of his foot, but he underestimated the steepness of the rock and his balance tipped and he fell into the sharp embrace of the broad crystals as his glasses fell. Blue, white, and black consumed his vision whereas he heard the glass of his spectacles land on rock and slide to whereabouts unknown.

“Dad!” he cried painfully, trying to wriggle his way off the unwelcoming arms of the crystals. Once he managed it, he immediately crouched where he was, delicately feeling the floor for his glasses while frigid panic scraped underneath his sternum.

“DAD!” His voice ricocheted throughout the cavern in an unpleasant, thrumming melody. He could feel it in the crystal spires he leaned against.

“I’m here, son,” the deep voice calmed. His large, warm palm cradled the side of Merlin’s jaw and neck, and he clung to that hand like an anchor. “I see your glasses. They haven’t gone far. I’ll be just a moment.”

Merlin swallowed thickly and listened to the treads of his father’s boots drift from him and then return. That warm hand slid over his shoulder blade as he touched Merlin’s hand with his folded spectacles. “Did you know these are cracked?”

“Yeah,” he answered dryly, unfolding the earpieces and slipping them on. “Because of Arthur, as it turns out.”

“Oh my,” his father chuckled lightly. “Nothing violent, I hope?”

“No, just clumsy,” he assured, momentarily removing them again to clean them with the microfiber in his pocket. “But I suppose it fits…I’m blind as a bat. I belong in this place.”

Balinor wasn’t smiling when he finished cleaning his glasses. “You belong in every beautiful place in this world, Merlin, but this cave hardly qualifies.”

Father and son met each other’s gazes, the latter puzzled until the seriousness in Balinor’s matching sapphire eyes struck him. Merlin recognized the familiar swelling in the rear of his throat and the ache in his eyes as emotion welled in his core. “That’s nice…” he sniffled, “but you barely know me.”

“You’re my son,” Balinor countered tranquilly. “And you’re Hunith’s son.” He gestured around the cavern. “I’ve seen you stand up when the sky was crushing you. There aren’t enough of these crystals to replace you. I know times are not the best right now, but don’t ever settle for less than you’re worth.”

Merlin’s chin was doing strange trembling things involuntarily and he barely choked out, “Dad, we’ve got to go back up there and be with people—I can’t do this now.”

Balinor laughed and tugged him into a bear hug. He kissed his hair again and swayed from side to side until Merlin recovered. Sniffling and sneaking his hands between them, Merlin wiped his tears and uttered, “We’re going to be left behind.”

“No, there is an underground lagoon up ahead. People will be skipping rocks over it for the next fifteen minutes.”

Merlin huffed a giggle and took an extra minute to recover. When he felt ready to face society, he looked expectantly at Balinor, who in turn nodded to the rest of the cavern. “No one but us. Want to try it?”

He shook his head. “No thanks, I heard it when I called for you.”

Balinor scoffed, “That was hardly an example. What New Years songs do you know?”

Merlin huffed a laugh. “None. Are there any?”

“Not sure; that’s why I asked you,” his father chuckled. He rubbed his hands together. “We'll have to improvise, then.”

He began a low note which Merlin felt first in the crystals nearest to them. When Balinor paused for breath, the sound continued, filling the cavern. Merlin matched him with a slightly higher note. Without the bodily warmth of the interns, the air fogged slightly in front of their lips, but together they built a long melody that sang back to them. By the end it sounded like a chorus of men, not merely two.

They stayed until the last note faded. Merlin met Balinor’s smile as he pivoted his son with an arm across his shoulders. “Let’s go. Your mother will never forgive me if you catch a cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, Balinor's eyes are brown in the show, but father/son bonding, people!


	19. Leaning Towers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new semester begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: violence and unpleasantries ahead.

Merlin smiled despite the surge of panic when he saw Lancel and Gwaine charging through the airport. Gwaine hoisted him right into the air while he blew a loud party horn between his lips. “HAPPY FIRST WEEK OF THE NEW YEAR!” he yelled, gritting the plastic mouthpiece in his teeth.

He made a point to waddle with Merlin in tow around the luggage carousel until Lancel intervened. “I don’t think he can breathe! Besides it’s my turn.”

Merlin’s duffel had since fallen from his shoulders but after Lancel’s hug, he went and found it while Merlin turned to Morgana. He hadn’t noticed her since his roommates consumed his attention, but now her aquamarine eyes twinkled and she pulled him into a gentle hug. “How was the flight back? Was he unbearable the last two weeks?”

Merlin peeked to where Arthur was lifting his luggage off the carousel. “We didn’t speak much.”

True enough, he’d spent all of New Years weekend with Balinor, soaking in his father’s uncanny knowledge of the city he hadn’t visited in years. The remaining days of the internship were consumed with final projects so by the time they were in the cab and in the airport, silence was a comfortable companion between them.

“Gwaine’s bus is outside. We figured it’d be best to leave in separate vehicles,” Morgana explained. “Gwaine somehow managed to convince the university residential staff to let you guys into your dorm early.”

“I thought they were staying there for the holidays?” Merlin wondered.

Morgana chortled. “They’ve been with me, and it has been an exciting month, but I am just as eager to get them out of my house as you are to be separated from my ass of a brother.”

Merlin looked aghast as an epiphany hit him. “Does that mean you cleaned the guest room?”

Morgana’s eyes rolled innocently…in a way that was not at all innocent. “If by ‘cleaned’ you mean _relocated,_ then yes. Cleaned.”

Merlin chuckled nervously. “Where did you put all the stuff?”

Her smile shined. “Arthur’s room. And Gwaine may or may not have spilled all of his cough syrup whiskey in his bed.”

Contrary to Arthur’s bed at the moment, Gwaine’s VW bus stood pristine and sparkling on the curb. “He’s going to have to buy a new mattress!” Merlin scolded while he shoved his bag across one of the seats.

Morgana rolled a shoulder. “Not my bed, nor my problem.”

“Guys!” Gwaine announced as he threw an arm over both of them. “Do you realize we only have three months of school left?”

Morgana’s sleek, dark brows furrowed. “Gwaine, we’re juniors. Only seniors finish early.”

He stared at her oddly until he realized, “Oh,” and removed his arm from her so he could shake Merlin’s shoulders with both hands. “We only have three months left!”

To her puzzled expression Lancel explained, “The over achievers have enough credits to be classified as seniors…and they’re not modest at all.”

Gwaine was trying to shake body fat he didn’t have in a celebratory dance that had Merlin clutching his side in laughter.

“Is he in epileptic shock?” Arthur asked behind them, rolling his duffel to Morgana’s car.

“No, that’s just Gwaine,” Lancel laughed breathily. “We’ll see you guys soon.”

“Drive safe!” Morgana waved as she opened her car door.

It was nice returning to the dormitory, where his clean bedclothes waited for him along with his abundance of pillows. Merlin found a bright satin bow around his stuffed dragon’s neck from which hung a holiday card from Gwen. After sending her a quick text of thanks, he jumped in the shower and then his bed for a deep nap before they accepted Gaius’s invitation for dinner.

In the meantime, Morgana whined, “Good god. You’re pouting.”

“I think I have every right after what you did to my room,” Arthur spat.

“After what you did to Merlin, you should be more concerned with the food than your room,” she purred, setting his dinner plate before him.

Arthur jolted. “We are not eating _kale,_ or whatever fibrous greenery you swear is edible.”

“You ate it for Merlin,” she reminded shamelessly.

“That was different! He…did things to it!”

“Oh yes, those elegant hands soaked in oil, massaging those leaves into submission… You ate it for Merlin.”

His eyes widened. “I-I— _He_ put fruit in it! Fruit is edible!”

“Yeah, so is your shame,” she snapped, and then paused by the counter. Morgana looked around with a puzzled expression. “Do you smell something…hot? I’m thinking it’s how _burned_ you feel.”

Arthur audibly growled and stood from the table, although he was not sure where he intended to storm off to; the sunroom was useless at night, his room was a mess and reeked of cheap whiskey, and the living room was cold without the fire going. He resigned himself to arguing with his sister.

“It’s your own fault for ignoring him when you had him conveniently within close range,” she finished. “Now he’s happily back to living with Gwaine and Lancel while you’re moping around here. It’s like having two wolves between you and your nightingale.”

“Goddamn it, Morgana, what was I supposed to do? Any time I saw him he looked as if he’d been crying all night!”

“I think pulling him into your bed would have sufficed,” she sassed. “I doubt he would have complained much.”

“Not everything is resolved through sex!” he barked.

Morgana guffawed openly. “Yes, because you’ve tried. What was her name again?”

Arthur was fuming. “I have not been back to that restaurant since, and I have no intention of going.”

When his sister peeked over her shoulder to see him leaning a hip against the island with his arms resolutely crossed, she sighed haughtily and set her spatula down. “Well you’re not gaining anything by standing here acting like an impertinent child. If a boyfriend is not what you want, the least you could do is apologize to your _friend.”_

Arthur groaned and slumped so his face rested on his forearms over the counter. “I wasn’t taught how to apologize.”

“You’re telling me,” she murmured, earning a sideways glare from her brother. “If it helps, typically the word ‘sorry’ is involved.”

Arthur sulked deeper, if it were possible. “You’re really milking this until I’m dry, aren’t you?”

“Moo,” she chimed sweetly, the same time a door slammed in the house. She and Arthur glanced at each other, and then looked toward the darkened living room. After a moment, Uther came into view, smiling contently.

“Ahh,” he sighed. “Together again. Safe flight, Arthur?”

“Obviously,” his son murmured darkly. He stiffened as his father clapped a hand on his back.

Uther chuckled, ignorant of Arthur’s mood. “Spoken like a man stuck in economy for three hours. What’s for dinner?”

Arthur’s eyes flicked up to his sister, and knew she hadn’t planned on cooking for three. Her features gave away nothing, and as her lips parted for her answer, he intervened, “Chicken burgers and salad. I’m not eating. I think I’ll call it an early night.”

Morgana’s eyes reflected equal parts betrayal at being left in their father’s company, as well as concern. “Shall I bring something up?”

“Don’t bother,” he murmured, coming over to kiss her cheek. “Good night.”

He was nearly out of the kitchen when Uther said, “Arthur, a word before you go.”

He froze, heavily considering ignoring the summons while the muscle in his jaw clenched. Inhaling for patience, his face relaxed and he rotated. “Yes?”

“I just want to hear all about your holiday,” he remarked kindly. “Tomorrow, before your classes begin, and we have a few other items to discuss.”

The prospect of starting the day with an interrogation did not appeal to Arthur one bit, but ending the day with one was even less appetizing. He nodded curtly and continued on to the guest bedroom. He grumbled inwardly at how the bed was smaller than his, but the sheets were clean and the mattress did not ooze whiskey when he sat on it.

The next day was a whirlwind. No sooner was Arthur downstairs and bleary eyed then Uther swept him up in the morning’s activities. “Your courses do not begin until noon, correct? I’d like for you to sit in on a couple of meetings. Dress accordingly. Now, for all the words we exchanged, you never told me _which_ company you interned for…”

Morgana was a saint throughout breakfast, silently handing Arthur his first mug of coffee, then a second with a distinctive aroma of peppermint liquor to soothe his nerves. When the conversation swerved into the provided housing and roommate arrangements, she smoothly lied, “Arthur was so late in being admitted, they arranged a singular room for him.”

Dressing for said meetings was a blur in his memory, not much clearer than the conferences themselves; Arthur spent the time lethargically sketching everything from snowflakes falling over the page, waves tackling the letters, and a warty troll glaring at him from the side.

Arriving at the university was a godsend and doing nothing more than browsing through a syllabus was the equivalent of lounging on sand to Arthur. He did not even mind stumbling into Guinevere as he was leaving the building and she was entering.

“Oh! Hello, Arthur,” she greeted anxiously.

“Guinevere,” he offered, holding the door open.

She hesitated going through it, though. “Are you all right? If you don’t mind me saying…you look exhausted.”

“Good,” he nodded affirmatively. “If you’d said I look dashing I would have doubted your artistic analysis.”

She blinked and a few giggles bubbled up her throat. “Your self esteem is as impenetrable as ever. That’s good to hear, but really, people are supposed to look refreshed after a holiday.”

Arthur’s sigh fogged in the midafternoon chill. He let the door fall closed to keep heat within the building. “So I’ve heard… In a lot of ways I feel like the break never happened.”

She nodded her understanding. “Elyan feels the same. He and the a cappella choir have a tournament this spring, and rehearsals are happening every other evening. They leave this weekend for the first competition, actually.”

Arthur contemplated this information and asked, “What is their itinerary?”

Gwen stared at one of the pillars while she recalled, “If they move on in the competition…just about every weekend they’ll be away, and since Merlin’s the manager—oh.”

A gloved hand flew up to cover her mouth. Arthur’s chin dropped as he scratched his ear. “So you’ve heard, huh?”

She smiled apologetically. “Only bits and pieces…I’m sorry about your bed.”

To Arthur’s own surprise, he shrugged. “A new mattress should be arriving today…” He paused and reiterated her words, “Merlin’s the manager? He never told me.”

Gwen nodded proudly. “You only saw one of his performances, but he’s really good. He’s the type who makes others sound better, instead of taking center stage, you know? The managers tasked him as the conductor since he picked up notes whenever others dropped them or he kept everyone on track…either way, the managers graduated last month and trusted him to take their place. There was something about Gwaine too…I don’t remember exactly but he and Gwaine sound really charming together. Merlin’s the modest type, you know, but I’m surprised Gwaine never told you.”

Arthur’s head tipped to the side as he admitted, “He, Lancel, and I haven’t spoken much.”

Gwen arched one of her sculpted brows at him. “You don't have to wait for them to open their mouths. That goes for Merlin, too.”

Arthur’s head fell back in defeat. “Did _everyone_ know he was attracted to me _except_ me?”

Guinevere giggled and admitted, “I didn’t _know_ he was interested, but I knew you were.”

That took Arthur aback. “What do you mean?”

Gwen smiled intelligently, “Well, after you made out with Lancel last year, it was understood how you were okay with men, and then at the fundraiser you made Merlin attend in the autumn, he managed to make you laugh. Up until then, I did not have a memory of you ever laughing at one of your father’s events. After that, you kind of kept Merlin around like a talisman.”

Arthur scoffed mildly, “He’s thin but I can’t wear him.”

Gwen snorted, “You know what I mean. And honestly…it was a relief. Half the time I felt like I was failing as a support system for you.”

Whatever mirth was in his expression faded. “Guinevere, you never…I didn’t mean to place that sort of pressure on you.”

“You didn’t, that’s just it,” she amended. “I wanted to help you, but I didn’t know how, and really, I don’t think you would have let me. I’m not sure how Merlin did it, but he wriggled his way into your problems and you let him help you. Some pressure is good, Arthur. If you are able to lean on each other, you hold each other up. Does that make sense?”

He nodded solemnly. “It does.”

She pivoted towards the door and squeezed his bicep. “Talk to him. He’ll listen. Get some adequate sleep first on that new mattress.”

He felt the corner of his mouth lift. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

He opened the door for her and trotted down the steps, his thoughts centered on a solid nap. When he pulled into the driveway and opened the front door, however, his mattress was reclining against the stairway. “You couldn’t have gotten them to haul it upstairs?”

Morgana sat on the couch, munching on a cake pop. “Of course not. That would be far too considerate.”

Arthur plucked the paper stick out of her fingers and pulled the rest of the frosted sphere off with his teeth. “Excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he mumbled around the bite. “Get up and help me.”

“Ask nicely,” she countered, lounging where she was.

He glared at her. “Morgana, the bed’s monstrously large.”

“Whose fault is that?” she laughed, appearing like a queen demanding repentance. “Besides, you could use the practice. Say you’re sorry, and ask nicely.”

Arthur planted his hands on his hips and filled his lungs. “I am _sorry_ you wasted your money on a piece of processed confectionary—”

“I hope the guest room is comfortable,” she finished, rising from the couch.

Arthur’s blond hair stuck up in errant wisps as he raked a hand through. “I’m sorry I ate the cake pop! Now will you _please help me_ get this godforsaken thing upstairs?”

He watched her deliberate on it for a long moment. “It’s a start. You’re going to have to lose the tone and sweeten it for Merlin.”

“Nothing is happening until I sleep in my own damn bed,” he growled, lifting one end while Morgana climbed the stairs to handle the other. With him pushing and her pulling, they conquered the stairs and leaned it against the wall outside of his room.

“All righty, cheers,” she sang before he caught her elbow.

“We’re not finished until everything is out of my room and the old mattress is on the curb.”

She sighed theatrically. “Nothing pleases you, brother dear.”

Arthur jolted slightly at the memory of Merlin uttering something similar, but he focused his attention on moving everything back to the guest bedroom. Finagling the old mattress out of the bedframe and lifting the new one in place was another trial entirely, but they did it. By far, the easiest task was sliding the stained mattress down the stairs, but as soon as it waited for the disposal company to come retrieve it, Arthur flopped onto his freshly made bed and was unconscious within seconds.

When he awoke, however, the days progressed with him only sitting still when he was in class or sleeping. Before he knew it, two weeks had passed and he still had not confronted Merlin, and then he was in the month of February. Morgana was not shy about reminding him of a certain event on the fourteenth, but when he briefly considered planning something for Merlin on Valentine’s day, he realized it was on a weekend, and Guinevere confirmed his suspicions that the a cappella group would be traveling for their competition.

“They’re doing really well!” she proclaimed over her green tea latte. Arthur had finally managed to steal an hour to himself, and he was so relieved he was not even bothered by having lunch with Lancel and Gwen in the café. “The tournament ends in early March, I think, right around the time of the art show.”

Arthur’s cheek was firmly planted in his palm. Her words filtered through his contemplation of how it was a strange twist of fate that Valentine’s Day was the one break he had in the long line of chaos. Between his father, school, and Merlin’s own workload, Arthur simply did not have time to find him and corner him long enough to apologize. He would have sent him a text or called him over the phone, but after the bomb explosions between them, Merlin deserved something concrete and in front of him.

And the more he pondered it, Arthur wondered if Valentine’s day was really the best time for an apology. Frankly, the entire month of February was cursed as far as Arthur was concerned; the only blessing being how it was the shortest month of the year, even when it leaped an extra day. He’d finally admitted to himself how he missed Merlin’s friendship, and all of the sass that followed, but confronting him on a day which society had devoted to the gooey relations of love…Arthur was barely ready to acknowledge his…intense attraction for Merlin to himself, let alone try admitting it to Merlin.

“Is it ludicrous to go and see one of their performances?” Lancel suggested, slicing through Arthur’s reverie. “You could catch him afterwards,” he added, reading Arthur’s thoughts.

His blond head shook dejectedly. “I haven’t the time. The elections are this November, and Father is manic over the final debates and speeches.”

Arthur glanced at the clock on his phone. “Speaking of, if I don’t leave now I’ll be late.”

“Late for what?” Gwen wondered.

Arthur shrugged on his steel grey coat and replied, “It’s not so much about being late, but arriving appropriately _early_ so Uther doesn’t have a brain hemorrhage. See you.”

“See you,” they echoed back to him. When the bell on the door jingled, Gwen asked, “Is it awful that I wouldn’t mind his father having a hemorrhage?”

Lancel sipped his espresso while his eyelashes swept upward to gaze at the door as if Arthur was still there. “So long as Arthur doesn’t have one first.”

“Should we call Merlin?” she wondered, leaning against his torso.

He let his arm fall from the spine of her chair to around her shoulders. “He’s having the time of his life…the only thing that could make it better would be if Arthur settled things between them, but I don’t want to risk throwing him off his game in the middle of the competition.”

Guinevere processed his input and exhaled slowly. “I suppose you’re right.”

Another two weeks later, however, and Merlin and Gwaine were tumbling into their dorm room with rucksacks and music binders crashing over the floor. Lancel peered over the spine of his textbook to examine them on the floor.

“Just leave us,” Gwaine breathed. “We’ll sleep here.”

“Just as well,” Lancel agreed. “I haven’t cleaned since we left on break.”

That roused Merlin off the floor. He disentangled from his luggage and dragged himself to the bathroom for a thorough shower. Gwaine truly slept where he was, door wide open and everything. No sooner was Merlin cleaned and clothed, though, he fell into his bed, asleep instantly. At some point Lancel managed to get Gwaine into his bed, but the luggage was kicked out of the way until further notice.

The next morning, Merlin coaxed Gwaine out of bed. “No class…” he mumbled, “until noon…”

Merlin shook his shoulder more forcefully. “We have the day off, remember? Art students have to report to the art building and help set up the show. Gwaine, I need breakfast.”

His roommate somewhat rolled out of bed, landing partially on the floor while his legs were still tangled in the bedclothes. “Close enough.”

“Not at all,” Merlin countered, nudging him with his foot. “You can either shower or I’ll dump water on you.”

Gwaine crawled on all fours to the bathroom and emerged refreshed and eager to get to the dining hall. The clouds were overcast as they traversed across the lawns to the art building. When they arrived, however, a dilemma presented itself.

“Hey guys,” Guinevere welcomed with an anxious smile. “Um, there’s a problem getting your portfolios...because the printer isn’t working.”

“The science building has one,” Merlin proffered without missing a beat.

Guinevere’s eyes opened as if she hadn’t been fully awake until now. “Really? Like, one capable of printing enough pixels on massive sheets of paper and acrylic?”

He nodded. “They print their own periodic tables for the walls and take the dissection diagrams seriously.”

She was bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Do you think they would let the art department use it?”

Gwaine shrugged. “As long as the art department pays for the paper, ink, and toner, it’s unlikely they’ll care.”

Her head fell back with relief. “Let me give you a hard drive with everything needing to be printed and I’ll leave it to you guys to handle it.”

“What about the screens?” Gwaine asked before she bustled away. “All the electronics are in order besides the printer, right?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded assuredly. “We’ll have them set up by the time you’re back!”

With a two terabyte hard drive in tow, Merlin and Gwaine explained the situation to the woman in charge of the massive printer in the science building. Gwaine was able to charm her easily enough, and Merlin set up the hard drive to a computer before checking the printer’s paper and ink storages. When everything was ready, the printer went to work and they carefully piled them between sheets of tissue paper.

“Oh wow…” Gwaine exclaimed, holding up a sheet which was as long as his torso. “This one’s yours. I can tell.”

Merlin glanced over his shoulder and laughed. “Yeah, he mentioned he hated getting his picture taken…technically it’s not a photograph, even though it is based on one.”

Gwaine guffawed. “I can’t wait to see the animated one you did. That’ll be the star of the show, mate.”

“Not if people are looking at your videos,” he disagreed, but Gwaine waved the matter away and looked at the computer screen.

“Shit, there are still thirty pieces to print. I’ll go ahead and take these over so Gwen doesn’t panic, and you can come along with the others. Are all your things in this pile?”

Merlin nodded and ejected the hard drive. “Go ahead and take this; the computer has the data it needs.”

Gwaine carefully rolled the pile so it was easier to manage with the longer pieces, and stuffed the hard drive into a pocket. “Adieu,” he chimed, leaving Merlin to wait on the rest.

He checked to make sure each piece printed out well before rolling them as Gwaine had done. With one hand, he adjusted his white scarf around him when the remnants of winter filled the breeze, nipping at his nose and cheeks. Merlin held the bundle of art securely in his arms as he walked across the lawns which were mostly devoid of students either in class or avoiding the weather.

It was a surprise to hear a voice utter nearby, “Hey pill cake.”

Puzzled, Merlin pivoted to look behind him only to have the bundle in his arms knocked out of his grasp. He gaped as paper and color scattered across the lawn, tumbling over the moist grass with the wind. “What the hell are you doing?” he erupted before he faced the man who was responsible.

Cedric. 

“I’m going to have to print all of these again!” Merlin exclaimed, shoving Cedric out of the way before he stepped on any of them.

Cedric’s head turned sideways to better see one of the images. “My bad. I had no idea you’d be carrying such lovely things. I’m even more sorry for ignoring you for so long.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed impatiently. “What are you talking about?”

Cedric had his own stack of papers under one arm while the other gestured to Merlin. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere, all those months ago in the coffee place. Really, it’s a damn shame I realized so late who you are, and then you went and drank that golden boy’s wine…”

His tongue clicked with disappointment. “Then, of course, _exams_ got in the way, and the holidays. It was just a mess.”

“What are you talking about, Cedric?” Merlin demanded, not at all comforted by the appearance of Val and Myror coming across the lawns.

“Here,” he offered the papers, “add these to your art show and jog your memory.”

With a casual flick, the papers blew over the ones already on the grass, and Merlin felt his blood pressure fall. He took one look around him as terror made his blood cold. “Wh-where did you get these?”

“I-I-I saved them,” Cedric mocked. “Good thing too. Someone very clever with a computer went and erased these gems from the internet. You know, if you wanted to get pill fucked again, you didn’t have to sabotage my plans for Arthur in the process.”

Merlin was dumbfounded as if the cogs in his mind had jarred to a halt. Before he could scramble for a response, Val arrived and towered over him. “Did I see you shove my friend?” he purred in his baritone.

Merlin hastily ducked under his swing and retreated, but Myror caught him in a left hook, and Merlin hit the ground. Just as quickly, he hopped to his feet and ran, but he only managed three steps before they surrounded him. Merlin tasted blood and knew his lip was split, but he was too preoccupied with avoiding further injuries to care. He ducked and dodged as much as he could but evading Arthur’s tickling fingers was not the same as three men wishing to break his bones.

Myror was swift and knocked the air from his diaphragm, allowing Val to catch Merlin and slam him onto his back. The last thing he saw, was Cedric’s foot aimed right for his glasses.

Arthur shut his car door and heard the melodic beep of the doors locking. He glanced upward at the sky. The air did not smell like snow but the rain had brought the last stand of winter with it. Until the sky unleashed, though, he was incredibly late for his class, yet felt no hurry to reach it. In fact, he was more inclined to skip it entirely and have a proper lunch in the dining hall.

His route swerved as he made his decision, striding through a shadowed alley between buildings and meandering his way to the structure that promised food. There were hardly any students other than him out at this time, which was what grabbed his attention to the flapping of papers on the other end of the wide lawn. He recognized the hulking figure of Val flanked by the swarthy Myror and tiny Cedric in comparison, but when Val took a step into the array of papers on the grass and moved his arm like a punch, it was Merlin who leapt out from behind him.

Arthur felt as if time was pausing, slowing down for him to comprehend what he was seeing. Myror’s fist was thrown into the air, and for a brief second Arthur disbelieved it made contact…but then Merlin hit the ground…and Arthur started running.

He’d never sprinted so quickly in his life; one moment he was on one side of campus, and now he was tackling Cedric to the ground, but it still wasn’t fast enough. His kick had hit its mark and as Cedric’s feline bones crunched beneath Arthur, he glanced back to see tiny pieces of glass speckling Merlin’s brow, his glasses shattered against his bleeding eyes.

Arthur’s hand closed around Cedric’s throat without feeling it. Tears were already leaking from his eyes due to the pain of his broken ribs, but as Val lifted Arthur off of him, his grip held and Cedric came with him. By the time Arthur acknowledged another foe, he threw Cedric away from him, barely relishing the wet cough he exhaled upon landing in order to face Val.

Oddly enough, the larger man threw him in a similar way toward Myror, the faster of the two. Arthur landed in a roll and sprang to his feet. Myror was quick, but he was fueled by defense whereas Arthur was fueled by rage. Myror dropped to the ground with blood between his lips and an eye rapidly swelling.

Val tackled him to the ground next, bellowing an insult that went unheard by Arthur. They rolled and Arthur felt a fist collide with his cheekbone but adrenaline guarded against the pain while Arthur threw his elbow with enough force so Val rolled off of him. In the back of his mind, Arthur knew his knuckles were splitting, knew his cheek was throbbing, but he screamed and fought, unsure if the red in his vision was his own or Val’s, or merely the color of his rage.

It was a strange, euphoric feeling, having gravity turned on its head. Arthur blinked rapidly, still thrashing before he realized he was being dragged away from three bodies.

Three?

Not four?

“Merlin! Where’s Merlin?” he cried. Hearing his own voice rasp in his throat made this all seem more like a dream.

“Gwaine’s taken him to the hospital,” Leon informed on one side.

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” Percy declared on the other, “and go back for the papers.”

Papers?

“Eli, Gwen, and Lancelot are already on it!” Leon countered. “They were posted all over the school! That’s why the printer was broken!”

“Shit,” Percy cursed.

Papers? What were they talking about?

Arthur felt himself land on the backseat of his car and Leon’s hands feeling his pockets. Finding the keys, he folded himself in the driver’s seat whereas Percy told him he would remain to help Lancel and Elyan. Arthur felt his car purr to life around him, but by the time he managed to sit up, Leon was already parking in his driveway.

Morgana was home for lunch and peeked her head out of the kitchen with her mouth full. One look at Arthur, and she rushed forward. “What happened?” she demanded, all but dragging Arthur to the kitchen’s wide and deep sink. The antiseptic soap burned his knuckles. He hadn’t realized how much blood was on them…or his coat.

Leon was in the process of getting him out of said parka while he explained, “Merlin was attacked on the front quad by Val and his hoard.”

He started working on cleaning Arthur’s coat while his sister remarked, “In the middle of the day?”

Leon cast her a wary look. “That’s not the worst of it.”

Arthur listened vaguely as she asked, “What is the worst of it?”

“Somehow…” Leon swallowed, giving a blatant peek at Arthur as if to gauge how much his anger had simmered down. “Somehow they found…compromising pictures of Merlin and posted them around campus. There was a pile of them on the lawn when we left.”

“Compromising,” Morgana repeated. “Define, ‘compromising’.”

Before Leon could, however, the front door barged open and the heavy footfalls of Uther announced his arrival. “ARTHUR! ARE YOU HERE?”

He pulled his dripping hands out of his sister’s grasp and numbly went to face the dean. The man held up his mobile, which was even now singing the _ding!_ of an e-mail coming through. Before he managed to get his mouth open, four more _ding!_ s sounded.

“Four students have been hospitalized, and I come to learn _you_ were the cause of three of them?” he confronted.

Arthur’s brows lifted slightly. “News travels fast from an empty lawn.”

Uther’s anger practically simmered off of his flesh. “Do you realize one of their lungs is punctured, and another is going to need dental reconstruction?”

Arthur looked down at his inflamed knuckles. “That’s why my hands hurt so much…”

Uther’s expression was akin to being slapped with a fish. With immeasurable patience he declared, “I’m going to accredit your complete disregard at the moment due to shock. As soon as you return to your senses, I require an explanation as to why you defended that artist. Now I have to deal with rape images all over my bloody school…”

Arthur’s attention was jerked into the present as if time remembered it had a job to do. “You knew Merlin was raped at his last university?”

Uther was dialing a number when he offhandedly said, “Of course I knew. The deans were obliged to tell us the reasons for his withdrawal. They insisted he would not draw unwanted attention, yet here we are—”

Arthur’s fury surged forth as if it had never really left. Uther’s phone clattered over the hardwood while he was bent backward and pinned by Arthur against the spine of an overstuffed chair. He heard Leon and Morgana call his name but he ignored them and grated, “Is that why you told him to stay away from me? For your stupid fucking reputation?”

“Arthur,” his father said measuredly, “let’s not discuss this now—”

“Yes we will,” he growled. “You’ve been looking at Merlin like shit on your Armani heel since the moment you met him.”

“I’ve done no such thing!” Uther matched. “I turned against your mother’s brother in order to make the artist as comfortable as possible, even keeping him from doing the right course of action and providing a personal account of the crime!”

“His name is MERLIN!” Arthur bellowed. “You told him to his face it wasn’t worth remembering, and you’ve been trying to forget it ever since, haven’t you? It doesn’t matter to you that he saved my life!”

“Of course it matters!” Uther shoved his son off and stood tall, but Arthur did not shrink back. “I told him to _stay_ by you when he proved himself devoted to you! But the moment he threatened to be an inconvenience, I warned him to keep his matters away from you!”

“An INCONVENIENCE?” Arthur repeated. “What sort of inconvenience, _Father?_ Does it terrify you so much to watch me grow attached to someone? To see me defy your comfortable bubble and love a man? Your petrification does not grant you the right to force me into your bigoted standards! If you need a mirror, _get one._ I won’t become you.”

The silence that reigned between them was only broken by Uther’s phone ringing. With eerily calm movements, Uther picked up his phone and said evenly, _“This_ is why I acted. It will take a lot of calls and returned favors to keep you out of a penitentiary. Give me some credit. People like Mr. Emrys have tragedy on their heels, and if my wanting to keep you from it makes me a villain, so be it. You need to stay here until this ruckus is sorted.”

Taking the call, he exited the house. They heard his vehicle start, and when he was out of the driveway, Morgana’s huff shattered the silence. “About time,” she murmured.

Arthur chose not to respond and approached Leon. “My keys.”

Leon was as tall as Val but far lankier. He shifted his wait anxiously. “Why?”

“To go to the hospital. Why else? Merlin’s there,” Arthur explained.

“I think you need to listen to your dad this time, mate,” Leon shook his head. “From the looks of things, you nearly killed Cedric, and it took me and Percy to stop you from doing the same to Val.”

“He’s right,” Morgana seconded. “Lancel and the others will keep us updated, but if you step into the hospital looking as you do, they’ll have you in handcuffs before you reach Merlin.”

Arthur breathed heavily, pacing in a circle until his sister ushered him back toward the kitchen. “Come on, you need to get more cleaned up than this. Your hands need to be wrapped.”

He silently allowed her to take him where she pleased. Leon managed to clean his coat with hydrogen peroxide while Morgana used it to further disinfect his injuries. The sack of ice against his face was an immense relief. The next time the front door opened, the soft treads pulled their attention to Lancel entering the house.

“How is he?” Leon interrogated first.

“He’s in surgery,” Lancel sighed. Wordlessly, he handed something to Arthur. “He was wearing it…when it happened.”

Arthur unfolded his white scarf, now speckled and smeared with rusty blood. Instinctively, he lifted it to his face, and inhaled Merlin’s calming scent.

“Dare I ask why he’s in surgery?” Morgana ventured.

Lancel gestured to his face while he explained, “Merlin’s glasses were broken against his face. Pieces of glass are embedded all around his eyes. The doctors are mostly certain that none of it penetrated his eyes, but it was a close call, and we won’t really know until they get the glass out and wait for Merlin to wake up.”

The door opened again, this time with Percy, Elyan, and Gwen holding armfuls of papers. “We think this is the last of them,” Percy stated, setting his load on the coffee table. “Eli’s going to search the school one more time, and I’m off to break into a certain dorm for a certain hard drive. If any one asks, I was here the whole time.”

He and Elyan left while Gwen hugged Lancel’s waist. He kissed her hair while she uttered, “They’re awful. In order to find all of the pages, we couldn’t help looking, and…poor Merlin.”

Arthur’s gaze slid over to the rumpled piles. He grasped a sheet bearing the image of Merlin’s face stuffed against a pillow. Really, the only recognizable things were Merlin’s dark cowlicks, but Arthur’s eyes narrowed at the hand clawing into Merlin’s nape.

“Fingernails.”

“What?” Morgana asked in a hushed tone.

Arthur’s vision blurred. He could no longer see the image as he flipped it over so only the white back was visible. “Merlin’s scars,” he gestured to his own neck. “They’re from fingernails.”

He gasped for air and stood, scattering them out of his way. “I’m going to be sick,” he managed before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Morgana used the pilot light in the fireplace to get a fire going. The pictures were her tinder and logs.


	20. His Majesty

The presence of a familiar beeping roused Merlin, but when his hands clumsily lifted to figure out what the pressure was on his face, another's hands intercepted his.

“Woah there mate,” Gwaine soothed, “Your eyes are bandaged.”

He released Merlin’s hands so he could carefully inspect the gauze band wrapped around his head, the padding over his eyes, and the plastic goggles holding it all in place.

“Not going to lie, you kind of look like those gold fish in the stores,” Gwaine chuckled quietly. “If you were ginger and this was a less somber occasion, it’d be my laughter that woke you.”

“I’m in the hospital…” he rasped, equally parched and groggy from the anesthesia.

“Yup,” Gwaine answered, and Merlin felt a straw on his lips. “And you’ll never guess who’s here too.”

Merlin spent his energy on gulping down water instead of replying, so Gwaine informed, “All three of those fuck heads are here.”

“What happened?” he managed to say while Gwaine fluffed the pillows and tucked them against his body.

“You were taking a while with the prints, so I left the gallery to check on you, and right on the front quad, Arthur was beating the shit out of Val. It’s a good thing the a cappella gang came over to help set up because only Percy and Leon could have pulled Arthur off of him in time. He seemed pretty intent on killing him…and that’s not an exaggeration. I scooped you up and brought you here.”

“Arthur?” Merlin repeated, confused. “Why was Arthur…?”

He could hear Gwaine's clothing rustle with his shrug. “Dunno. Wicked timing, I guess. The doc said your mother’s on her way, and it’s only a matter of time before the others arrive for visiting hours…Merlin? Did you faint on me?”

The straw rested on his chest while Merlin’s head had fallen to the side; his breathing was even and deep.

The next he awoke, the bandages were gone and his eyelids rebelled against him. When he managed to pry them apart, the room was dimmed for his sensitivity but the only sounds he heard were the machines guarding his vitals. Unbidden, a tear slid down his cheek, followed by another, and then his eyes were weeping without his permission.

A warm, welcome voice explained, “No cause for alarm. Your eyes are overcompensating from the shock.”

“Dad?” Merlin called softly. There was the vaguest trace of movement in the void, but it was the weight sinking into the cot and his father’s pressure against his leg which told Merlin he was near.

“Your eyes might feel sticky for a while,” Balinor explained, patting a soft handkerchief over his son’s tears. “The tiny stitches were successful; but they’re coated with antibacterial gel to protect them. It’s not any darker than usual without your glasses?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, I…see just as badly as ever.”

His father hummed lightheartedly but it was not an outright chuckle. “Strange blessings. The fellow here before me, Gwaine, he mentioned you have an art show for the next couple of weeks. I’d like to see it. I can hasten your new prescription, and we’ll go together.”

His tone dwindled as Merlin shook his head. “I’m not going back.”

Balinor’s pause was heavy in the air before he spoke. “Gwaine also mentioned your a cappella competition is next weekend.”

Merlin’s gaze was steered toward the threadbare sheets even though he could not see them. “I’ll attend for my friends, but I’m done with school. They can mail me my diploma or not.”

Balinor slid his hand underneath where Merlin was picking at the fuzzy threads. “But you worked so hard to get ahead…are you not concerned for exams?”

Again, his head shook curtly. “Every time I’ve interacted with the real world I’ve been fine…sometimes even wanted. It’s school where all of this happens to me.”

His fingertips traced the lines of his father’s palm. “You have every right to do as you will, and you’ve made a fine name for yourself without a degree. I don’t want to discourage you, son, but the world is full of horrible people. The only aspect about school is it tends to corral the bad ones in with the good. In the real world they’re more spread out.”

“No, it’s,” Merlin sighed, “it’s more than that. I know what the world contains, and this isn’t even about my sexuality. I don’t _think_ like everyone else. I don’t have the same interests, I don’t care about the same pointless issues that everyone else seems to be obsessed with. I _don’t care_ about the materialistic rubbish that preoccupies so many people’s lives. I just want to be outside, or somewhere I can see and make…be a part of beautiful things. I’ve always been alone because of this; I never minded, because they just don’t understand. I don’t require anyone’s company in my life, but…but I’m human. I can only pretend I’m fine with being alone before I admit how _lonely_ I am…”

He dared not raise a hand to hide his eyes, for fear of smearing the gel or tearing the stitches, but Merlin knew his tears were genuine, now. _“Merlin,”_ Balinor cooed. He lifted his other hand to cradle his face, and Merlin leaned into it. “There is nothing wrong with you in wanting these things.” He kissed Merlin’s forehead as he continued, “There is nothing wrong with you at all. If there were more people like you in this world…well, let’s just say it’s hardly deserving of you as it is.”

Merlin smiled but it twisted more like a grimace. “Are you sure?” his voice wavered. “Because…I’m not sure this world wants me.”

Gel be damned, his shoulders heaved and Balinor scooped Merlin against his chest, guiding his head to rest on his shoulder while his soul unraveled and he wept. Balinor’s hand embedded itself in his son’s hair, petting through the locks, and soothing the stress in his nape as he rocked gently. “It’s not true,” he breathed into his son’s hair. “You are so loved, you haven’t any idea. So many people adore you, Merlin. You aren’t alone.”

Like a grip on a sponge, Balinor’s words shook Merlin’s frame and soaked his shoulder with his son’s tears as his fears were purged from his system. Balinor’s strong figure held Merlin’s up, and by the time his sobs dwindled, he felt too weak to lift off from his father’s body. Far from being bothered, though, Balinor murmured, “Would it be creepy if I lay here with you for a while?”

He sniffled. “The nurses might think so, but they never give me enough pillows anyway.”

“I’m sure it isn’t hospital protocol to allow two people on a cot.”

His son shrugged halfheartedly. “They’re used to Mom sneaking in things.”

Merlin scooted over and felt Balinor arrange himself on the cot before his arm snaked its way under Merlin’s shoulders. “Oh lord,” he cursed, “how do you sleep on this thing?”

“Narcotics.”

“Ah,” Balinor nodded, and tugged Merlin against him. Merlin was not sure from where his father had flown, but he suspected he was just as travel weary as Merlin was emotionally exhausted. They were asleep within minutes, and slumbered right through Hunith’s arrival as well as the multitude of proud photos she took on her phone.

Gwaine barely knocked on the Pendragons’ front door before he breezed inside. Morgana, Arthur, and Percy were the first to leap up and reach him first. Arthur’s hand gripped between his shoulder and neck in a quick squeeze before he eased his grip. “How is he?”

Gwaine recalled his time in the hospital: “He passed out on me, but he’s fine.” At the confused expressions he explained further, “He woke up and was coherent enough for a conversation. I told him he looked like a gold fish and then the anesthesia kicked back in.”

“A gold fish?” Lancel repeated dubiously.

“What? He did,” Gwaine defended. “You know, the ones with the bulbous eyes like their corneas take up more room than their brains—”

“How are his eyes?” Morgana curtailed. “Is he blind?”

“I don’t know, I left when his papa arrived and the docs hadn’t removed the bandaging yet.”

“His father?” Arthur reiterated. “Merlin’s father was there?”

“Yeah,” Gwaine brightened. “Nice man. Handsome. Picture a taller, older Merlin with long, tame hair and a scruff, and that’s him. Is there any food in the fridge? And Lancel, do you have your charger on you?”

“No, it’s in the dorm, why?” he asked, following Gwaine into the kitchen.

Gwaine pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “Merlin’s father let me take it. I wanted to charge it so it would be one less thing Merlin had to worry about when he gets discharged.”

“I have the same phone,” Gwen offered, rummaging through her purse and yanking out a white cord. Gwaine connected the phone to the wall and commenced his search through the refrigerator and cabinets.

Arthur glanced at the phone, stood a moment, and then gave into temptation. When the screen lit up, he was surprised to find two people grinning back at him. Merlin and an older man were caught in a selfie, with hardhats on their heads and what looked like a forest behind them. They both looked happy. It took Arthur a long time of wasted staring before he realized where he recognized the older man’s face.

_Who was that outside?_

_My father,_ Merlin had answered.

Arthur remembered hearing a foreign, baritone voice outside of their flat discussing the spelunking trip, but he’d thought Merlin’s answer was out of spite…but now that he knew his father was the CEO of a multibillion dollar organization…it was not a farfetched idea for a father to hop aboard his private jet and come spend time with his son, let alone come running once his mobile rang with the call from a hospital.

“Wow, and there it is,” Arthur mumbled to himself, reading Balinor’s name right at the top of Merlin’s contact list. The short sequence of numbers was able to reach one of the most powerful men in the world, and his son was the skinny, beautiful artist, Merlin.

Then, he frowned. 'Balinor' came after 'Arthur' alphabetically…but Arthur’s name was not on the screen. His eyes widened, despair mixed with annoyance filling his chest. _Did that handsome little shit erase my number?_ he wondered as he pulled out his own cell. He called Merlin’s phone, and a few moments later, the screen lit up with a name:

_His Majesty._

Arthur let the call go to Missed just so he could read those words over and over. When he set the phone back on the counter, he spoke to no one in particular, “How long do I have to remain in this infernal house?”

“It hasn’t been a day,” Lancel reminded, “and we would all really like to _not_ visit you in prison.”

“You’re too pretty to survive behind bars,” Gwaine agreed around a mouthful of left over Chinese noodles. Leaning against the counter, Arthur peeked at the wallpaper on Merlin’s phone again before resigning himself to this awful waiting game. Meanwhile, when he finished eating, Gwaine puzzled him by going upstairs, filling his arms with pillows, and then making his way to the front door.

“Uh, why are you stealing my pillows?” Arthur cornered.

“They’re for Merlin,” Gwaine uttered as if this was explanation enough.

“Seriously, what is the deal with the pillows?” Morgana asked like this was a long-standing discussion.

“It’s a therapeutic device,” Lancel provided. “Like shock blankets? I recognized it the moment Merlin moved in with us. We’ve kind of always known he was recovering from something.”

For further explanation, Gwaine clutched the cushions to his chest to emphasize, “Like a giant hug. I read about it back when I was a psych major. Lancel, you should grab the body pillow dragon out of the dorm and meet me there.”

The following morning, Arthur awoke on the couch with new aches and pains throughout his body. Trudging his way up to his room, he fell into his own pile of pillows and understood the comfort as his limbs and joints relaxed. His fingers refused to flex, and upon viewing his reflection, Arthur saw a harsh purple streak of a bruise across his cheekbone and one of his eyes was bloodshot. Washing his face and flushing his eyes with water, Arthur returned downstairs to find his father sitting at the coffee table.

“Am I a wanted man?” he asked quietly.

Uther roused from the laptop on which he was answering e-mails and rubbed his eyes before he faced his son. “Remarkably, no, you’re not. The cameras posted outside of the art building caught everything. You are suspended for the duration of the year for violence, but Val and Cedric have been expelled. Myror is on a plane as we speak flying back to his home country. There is an e-mail in here detailing crimes he is wanted for there, but I haven’t the care to read them. He was the easiest mess to clean, and that's all I care about. You are to attend your exams at the designated times, but otherwise you are not allowed on campus.”

“What about the art show?” When Uther’s inquiring gaze found him, Arthur thought it best not to mention Merlin. “Gwaine is featured in it, and I wanted to be there to support him.”

Uther visibly deliberated on it before he nodded reluctantly. “I will arrange a pass for the end of the week. You will have four hours to attend, and that’s it.”

“Yes, Father,” he confirmed, not daring to push his luck.

Uther peered at him for a moment and said, “Use the steak in the fridge. Ice only reduces the swelling.”

Arthur was briefly confused before he remembered what steaks were medically good for. Going to the refrigerator, he unwrapped the butcher’s paper from the sirloin and positioned it on his cheek. The smell of raw meat was odd in his nostrils, but it was softer than ice.

Over the next few days, Arthur found himself in the garden, trimming and helping the spring blooms along. Part of him cringed at the fact that he was no longer attending his classes, but his distaste immediately ebbed for relief to consume his mindset. He was freer than he had been in a long time. He was no longer busy, no longer stressed…even his responsibilities to Uther had been suspended. Instead of pestering him over finally helping in the garden, Morgana returned from school and silently pulled her gloves on to join him. She would catch his eye while the two of them hunched over the parrot tulips, and give him a soft smile which he felt himself returning.

“Your face looks better,” she greeted Friday morning. “How are your hands?”

“Scabs,” Arthur returned, flexing his fingers. The hard patches of scab on his knuckles prickled, but otherwise his range of movement had returned. “I feel good.”

“Good,” she beamed, and sipped her tea. “All of us are skipping class to see the art show with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he countered, pouring his coffee. “You’ve already seen it.”

“No I haven’t,” she surprised him. “Gwaine has, but that’s because he’s in it, and the a cappella choir is leaving for the end of their tournament today.”

“Without Merlin?” Arthur wondered.

Morgana faced him with an expression like she was surprised Arthur did not know what she said next, “He’s out of the hospital. His eyesight’s fine… No one told you?”

“I’ve been cooped up here all week,” he reminded. _“You_ could have told me.”

She shrugged. “It slipped my mind. Father’s been consulting me about criminology for your case.”

Arthur perked up from his coffee. “He’s been consulting _you?”_

She laughed incredulously. “Yes. I know, unbelievable. He hasn’t asked for my help since he wanted to get Mom a Mother’s Day gift. And you’re welcome. You’d look horrendous in an orange jumpsuit. Hurry and get dressed, I want to see the videos Gwaine filmed.”

Arthur shook his head, laughing while he took his coffee back to his room. They drove in Morgana’s car and met Lancel and Gwen outside of the art building. The galleries were already filled with students, alumni, and city dwellers perusing the pieces. Everything from line work, prints, paintings, and graphic prints…but also large flat screens were set up with videos playing.

“This is it!” Morgana announced, rushing over to one of them. “That’s us!”

Arthur joined her in front of the screen where a graceful montage was playing out in a grey scale. Gwaine’s angles of the camera were certainly artistic and varied between narrow or broad; the camera would pan over Morgana’s profile before it pointed to her reflection in a mirror while she cut Merlin’s hair.

“When was this?” Arthur wondered, having no recollection of being with Gwaine filming.

“This was when we were getting ready for the Christmas gala,” his sister explained. As the camera closed in on Lancel’s chest shrugging into a dress shirt, Morgana continued, “Gwaine was everywhere with the camera. We were seriously concerned he’d never be ready in time, but he pulled through.”

The video slowed while Merlin sprayed Morgana’s hair, holding the tresses aloft while the camera captured every molecule in the air. “What is the song?” Arthur asked, recognizing the music playing in the background. “I know it from somewhere.”

“It’s Merlin, that’s why,” she answered, pointing to the bottom of the screen. Written in fine, white letters, was the song being performed by the a cappella choir. Morgana distracted Arthur’s attention from the sight of Merlin strolling down the driveway in his tuxedo by saying, “This is probably from when he recorded the song.”

Arthur followed her to a series of photographs, one of which was Merlin’s profile in front of a recording microphone. Large headphones crowned his ears, and a bright spotlight behind him outlined his profile so he glowed. The image was beautiful, and everything Merlin was, but something else tore Arthur’s attention from it. Another of Gwaine’s videos played next to him, and for some reason, Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off it. A man was dancing, and when Arthur’s eyes flicked down, he saw the music was again provided by the a cappella choir.

The video ended and restarted, the camera following on the heels of the dancer walking into a shadowed hall. Like the first video, this one was in grey tones, but it took longer for Arthur to figure out who he was watching. It wasn’t until the camera slowly panned up the dancer’s body, and the white scarf around his shoulders was pulled off that he realized it was Merlin. The silk dragons glimmered as they flew off his shoulders, followed gradually by his bow tie, then his dinner jacket. It was not a strip tease…more like a man who was letting go, shedding his scales and the shackles binding him. Gwaine never directly pointed the camera at Merlin’s face, but Arthur knew. No one else danced like Merlin, and seeing him without inhibitions, dancing as the music bid…

The video ended with the camera angled on Merlin’s eyes while color infused the grey world. A streetlight outside of the window caught on Merlin’s glasses, making his irises flash gold, before he turned away, and the vision blurred to blackout.

Arthur realized there was a gathering of people around him, just as hypnotized by the video as he was. Morgana was beside him. “From looking at these, you’d think Gwaine was obsessed with him,” she teased.

“Was this after the gala?” Arthur wondered.

“Mmhm,” she nodded. “We grew bored and snuck the cameras into one of the darkened galleries of the library. Gwaine noticed Merlin's mood had changed, so he played music on his phone and just…let him do what he wanted.”

Arthur huffed a laugh, remembering how, on the flight to their internship, Merlin said he hadn’t slept well…

“Arthur!” Guinevere called. He and Morgana rotated and maneuvered their way to another screen where she and Lancel awaited. Arthur did not have to search for what they wanted him to see: a great, white dragon glared at them from the screen, appearing as real as their reflections. Its eyes were multifaceted sapphires and light reflected off its pearly scales in multiple shades, making it as beautiful as it was menacing. Then, as if a spell was cast on the image, the scales of its throat began to glow, and ruby flames began to lick through its teeth. The dragon stepped forward, and the flames reached out, consuming the image with black soot before it faded and revealed the dragon sitting back once more.

“He’s been working on this since school began,” Lancel informed. “I understand why he wanted it to be a secret, now.”

“The animation is stunning,” Gwen agreed. “It looks real.”

Arthur glanced to see if anyone else was admiring Merlin’s work, but his gaze caught on…himself. Arthur stared dumbfounded for a few seconds before he approached the image that was not a mirror, but it was certainly of him. He was sitting on the boardwalk wall and the beach stretched behind him, only the shore was closer, and the ocean beat froth into the sky on rocks. The light split into fractals from the foam and crowned Arthur’s head, bouncing off his golden hair. The shadows and light played in such a way that he looked ethereal. He was pointed toward the camera and smiling…but he could not remember having his picture taken.

“I love this,” Morgana said behind him. “Proof you can smile.”

Lancel laughed behind him, “Oh yeah, Gwaine mentioned that Merlin caught a picture of you. He based this off of it.”

“This is better than any picture I could ever take,” Arthur murmured. _This is how Merlin sees me._ He swallowed thickly and said, “Next time one of you finds him on campus, you should bring him by the house.”

The silence around him was palpable. Arthur glanced between his sister and friends, catching them exchanging looks. Lancel took the mantle of telling him, “Merlin isn’t coming back.”

Arthur frowned. “What do you mean? He has to…he’s only a junior…”

Lancel shook his head gently. “Like you, he is ahead by a year. He and Gwaine are seniors, so they’re done this year, and…Merlin didn’t want to come back. We can’t really blame him, and his grades are good enough so he will pass even without attending the last few weeks of class. He asked for his exams, and his teachers sent them to him in the hospital. He turned in his absentee form for graduation. He and Gwaine left for the end of their tournament, and it’s in Gwaine’s hometown. He’s staying in Gwaine’s flat there…his stuff’s out of the dorm.”

Arthur felt as if his heart was levitating in his chest. “Merlin’s gone?”

Lancel shifted his weight. “I wouldn’t say _gone…_ We know exactly where he is. I said you could go see him at one of his competitions, and now that you’re free, this weekend would be the perfect time.”

The blonde scoffed worriedly. “I don’t even know if he wants to see me.”

“Arthur,” Morgana soothed. “Merlin’s scared, so he’s running. You’d know all about that.”

“Yes,” he exhaled, “but some people want to be chased whereas others want to be left alone.”

She pointed to his portrait. “Really? You’re unsure whether he wants to see you? This is probably his laptop background.”

Guinevere laughed. “We were planning to drive to the competition tomorrow morning. There is enough room in Lancel’s car for you to join us.”

“Come on,” Lancel draped an arm over his shoulders. “It’s been a while since we went on a road trip, and if worst comes to worst, Gwaine’s finally fermented a tolerable whiskey recipe. It’s quite good.”

Arthur raised dubious brows at that but he chuckled and said, “Yeah…I’ll come—but don’t tell anyone! For Merlin’s sake, keep this a secret. I don’t want him nervous because of me during the show.”

Come the following morning, however, Arthur was the one who was bouncing the car with his nerves. Morgana clamped a hand on his shaking knee. “I swear to all that is holy, if you don’t _stop bouncing your legs,_ I will eject you from this car.”

“I can’t help it!” he retorted. “What am I going to say to him?”

“Don’t think about it,” Lancel said from the driver’s seat. “Just wait for the moment to come, and let it happen.”

There was a moment of silence in the car, and then Gwen, Morgana, and even Lancel refuted that. “No, no don’t do that. Your mouth is likely to say something stupid,” his sister countered.

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his scalp and face, leaning against the window and contemplating how this was a doomed venture. Even with the three of them exchanging ideas on how to confront Merlin, by the time they rolled into town and stopped for an early dinner, Arthur’s butterflies were just as active as ever. When Lancel parked in the visitor’s lot of the university hosting the tournament, Arthur felt his blood pressure steadily plummeting.

“Just breathe,” Morgana soothed, guiding him to their seats in the auditorium and rubbing his arm. “Nothing happens until the show is over, and then trophies have to be handed out.”

Lancel squeezed his knee on his other side, silently bidding him patience and strength. When the lights dimmed, announcing the start of the show, Arthur slumped back in his seat while his legs recommenced their restless bouncing. Both Morgana and Lancel had to hold his knees for fear of aggravating the person sitting in front of him.

 _They never consider long legs when they make these auditoriums,_ Arthur grumbled inwardly before his eyes recognized the back of the head in front of him. “Leon?”

Those blondish curls swiveled and his friend smirked with a finger pressed to his lips. Arthur heard Gwen whisper, “There’s Eli!” and followed her pointed finger across the room to where her brother was also seated with the audience.

“Why aren’t they backstage?” Arthur whispered back.

“They must be doing what they did at the showcase,” Morgana reckoned. “The element of surprise does wonders.”

“Shh,” Lancel hushed. “They’re next!”

The currently performing group—which Arthur really was not impressed with—finished their number, but the music did not finish. Arthur and the others peered at Leon snapping his fingers loudly, and over at Elyan spitting a beat that made it seem like the group on the stage’s song was fading out. On their other side, Percy added another layer, morphing the segue into a new song, and the crowd turned in their seats to find Gwaine meandering down the aisle, humming and improvising a melody throughout the space.

The other members carefully maneuvered their way out of the rows to come down the aisles and join him in climbing the stage. The audience giggled as they theatrically straightened the ties of their costume tuxedos and adjusted their lapels, licked their hands to slick their hair back, all while maintaining their song. The previous group had walked off stage confused, and the judges seemed mildly perplexed at not having the next group announced, but the show was on, and there was no stopping it.

 _Where’s Merlin?_ Arthur frowned. The song was still building, but everyone was present except the manager.

It was then that Arthur recognized the ghostly effect they were doing. Their vocal layers were echoing throughout the auditorium in such a way that another voice was slowly emerging to the forefront. Arthur turned, and initiated others to look as well, toward Merlin coming down the aisle. In the darkness, all Arthur could make out was the shine of his new glasses and a bruise on the bridge of his nose; otherwise, he was as transfixed as everyone else.

Unlike Gwaine’s improvisation, Merlin was singing lyrics. He climbed the stage and twirled on the balls of his feet to the center of his choir, where they had gone silent. Merlin’s voice resonated through the space, and for a strenuous second, silence reigned.

Then, they grabbed his tuxedo, and shredded it apart. The crowd erupted at the sight of his crisp white dress shirt and white waistcoat. Together, they tore their costumes off and went from all black to startling white.

Merlin called attention with two simple claps, and it was like a whole new song began. His foot tapped loudly over the wood of the stage, and the others took up the beat. With complete synchronization, they all crouched toward the audience with fingers to their lips _“Ssssshhhhhhhh…”_

Arthur felt giggles bubble up in his throat as he, Morgana, Lancel, and Gwen leaned forward with the rest of the auditorium as if to meet them. The a cappella members began slowly building layers again, from a whisper to a song, using their feet across the boards for percussion while Gwaine took up the lyrics with which Merlin had entered the auditorium.

Arthur and Morgana exchanged shocked glances. “He sounds really good!” she hissed excitedly.

The music built to an all time high. Merlin and the others were casting an enchantment over everyone, raising their heartbeats in time with the song. Merlin’s hands wavered or flicked in the air, directing the others’ cues while their steps grew louder on the boards, while Merlin’s voice rose to the rafters. When they reached the song’s highest pitch, they abruptly stopped and Percy made a sound like a ping pong ball hitting a table.

The others silently arched their heads as if watching an invisible ball arch over their heads. Elyan caught it on the other side of the stage, mimicking the sound, and when the invisible ball struck the group, they scattered across the platform. Their hands lifted from their prone positions in a final snap of their fingers, and the thud of their arms on the boards reverberated through the air, finishing the show.

Arthur couldn’t rise from his seat fast enough, and the rest of the auditorium stood with him. The standing ovation was uproarious. Lancel whistled through his fingers, and Arthur seriously wondered if his eardrum would ever be the same, but at the moment he did not care. His palms were numb from clapping and his voice was hoarse from calling out his praise while the judges leaned their heads together over their score sheets.

It was hardly a surprise who won. Gwaine ran onstage with his shirt halfway off and hoisted the trophy up high. The others were in similar states of undress, their skin shimmering with sweat, but Merlin was not among them. Arthur stared vacantly and then his brow furrowed. “Where the hell is he?” he called over the commotion. “He just won this fucking thing and he’s not accepting the trophy?”

“Stop giving yourself wrinkles and move,” Morgana ordered. “You can find him backstage.”

Arthur followed Guinevere and Lancel out of the row, and went in search of the champion singers and their manager. Gwaine was fully out of his shirt by the time they were found. “LANCEL!” he chimed, unabashedly hugging him. He pressed a loud smooch on Gwen’s cheek and almost did the same to Morgana before she steered his shoulders to Arthur, who felt his stubble as the man transferred his kiss to Arthur’s cheek.

Gwaine hardly seemed to notice as he writhed his celebratory dance with the trophy on his head like a crown. Morgana called his attention to the matter at hand. “Congratulations, congratulations, but Gwaine—where’s Merlin?”

“He left,” he replied, handing off the trophy to Percy.

“HE LEFT?” Morgana exclaimed, more enlivened than Arthur.

Gwaine frowned slightly, put off by her flare in temper. “Er, yeah, with his folks. He changed and went a few minutes ago.”

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the double glass doors behind him and Morgana shoved Arthur in the direction. “WHO CARES ABOUT HIS PARENTS? GO!”

“Hold on! Hold on!” Gwaine stopped them. “Is this it? Is this really happening?”

He reared back from Morgana. “YES IT IS IF YOU GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

Gwaine hid on Arthur’s other side and uttered sternly. “All right! Just give me a second and you’ll thank me. I know you, mate, and when you think too much, your mouth stops working properly. When in doubt, just be gentle with him, okay? Merlin’s a damsel. He wants to be whisked off his feet! Problem is, he’s used to being knocked off of them. Just be gentle, Arthur. Got it?”

“YES, YES HE GETS IT, NOW GET OUT AND CATCH HIM!” Morgana shoved him out the doors. Arthur stumbled off the curb but gracefully found his footing and ran, although he was not quite sure in which direction.

Gwaine sneered at Morgana. “How much do you have riding on this?”

“I bet Gwen three hundred dollars. Arthur _cannot_ fail,” she responded darkly.

Gwaine’s lips pursed in thought. “Gwen bet against Arthur?”

Morgana gave him a dark look. “It took him six months to court her after he admitted he liked her. At the rate he’s been moving with Merlin, this was an ill-based wager to begin with.”

Arthur did the math regarding the layout of the campus and estimated that the nearest guest parking was half a mile northwest…but the parents likely arrived along with the choir, and he had no idea which lots were filled first. Merlin could be on the other side of the campus by now, and this place had its own bus transportation system—

Voices caused his shoes to skid to a halt. Across the large expanse of the grounds, was a fountain where three figures stood. Arthur had to take the chance; if nothing else, he could ask for directions. As he sprinted nearer, though, he knew that lanky figure anywhere.

“MERLIN!”

The figure startled and rounded at the sight of Arthur hunched over his knees, sucking in air. “Um, Arthur?”

He held up a hand. “One second,” he rasped. Something entered his vision and he peeked up at the water bottle Merlin’s mother was offering him. “Thanks,” he breathed, draining half its contents.

Balinor chuckled and glanced toward his son. “Will you be all right?”

Arthur was screwing the lid back on the bottle when he caught Merlin’s eyes. “Yeah,” he responded, hastily looking away. “I can get back to Gwaine’s on my own.”

“Call if you need anything,” his father nodded, “and congratulations. Good seeing you again, Arthur.”

He kissed his son’s temple and looped an arm around his wife before they continued on toward their car. Arthur managed to rush, “You too, sir,” before he set the bottle on the ledge of the fountain for an excuse to do something with his hands as well as to be closer to Merlin.

 _Just be gentle._ They faced one another, but nothing happened. Merlin began to squirm slightly the longer he waited, but Arthur’s mind was moving at warp speed while his lips were frozen shut. His eyes locked on the broken, red lines dusted across Merlin’s brow and just under the cliff of his eye sockets where the glass had broken. The worst of his injuries was the bruise on his nose and a jagged line along the corner of his eye. It curled up the ridge of Merlin’s brow, but it had been so close to doing permanent damage… _Just be gentle. Just be gentle. Just be gentle. Just be gentle. Just be gentle. Just be gentle Just be gentle Just be gentle Just be gentle Just be gentle Just be gentle Just be gentle Just be gentle Just be gentle Just be gentle—_

Arthur lunged forward, squeezing him inside a fierce hug.

“Haah!” Merlin coughed, rigid inside his embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Arthur quickly released him. No sooner was he a step away, though, then he closed the space between them once more, and drew Merlin into a softer embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

He was no longer sure what specifically he was apologizing for, but suddenly he _needed_ to say it. Arthur felt fit to burst with how much he needed Merlin to understand he was sorry, but he realized Merlin was trembling slightly in his arms, and hastily let him go. “Merlin?”

“I’m sorry!” he piped, throwing Arthur off guard. Why was _he_ apologizing? Merlin had nothing to be sorry for. “I…I just forgot how _big_ you are…”

Arthur tumbled that in his brain…and then processed it again, but no matter how many times he tried to formulate a sentence, he came up short. “You…I…wh-um…Huh?”

Finally, he settled on, “Merlin, why are you trembling?”

He wanted to reach out for him, to steady him, to hold him, but Merlin held onto his elbows and Arthur reckoned it was best to leave space between them. His head was down as he stammered, “I don’t mean this to be about your weight, I mean—it’s just…you don’t understand…how much bigger you are than me. I-I can’t do this again. When I tried to kiss you…that was a big deal for me.”

Arthur gaped, utterly baffled. He felt like he’d jumped into a conversation they’d been having for months, only he just now became aware of it. The only thing he could conceive of was that Merlin had just as many things bottled inside of him as Arthur did, and they were all spewing out at once.

Merlin ventured a peek up at him but ultimately peered down again at their bodies. “It doesn’t matter how much weight I gain. I’ve always been slim, and my body is wrecked. You’re just…Arthur, you’re so much bigger and stronger than me. You don’t realize what you could do to me if I upset you, if you lost your temper. I’m sorry I slapped you all those months ago, but if you were to do the same to me, I would be on the ground…”

Arthur’s eyes widened as he comprehended Merlin’s words, as he recalled the moment Merlin had slapped him… He’d been defending Guinevere…but instead of recalling his anger toward her, Arthur realized how much Merlin had trembled in that moment, stuck between a hard place and the raging force that was Arthur… The time he'd flinched in the grocery store bathroom...and the way he'd shaken after he'd kissed him only to be faced with his temper.

“My god, Merlin…are you frightened of me?” he breathed. Arthur felt sick to his stomach as Merlin’s features cringed, his hands flying up to cover his face and to stifle his sob. “Oh Merlin, no…I’m not one of them—I’m not _him._ I’m not any of them.”

Merlin hiccuped a sob. “I know!” he insisted. “I know, but…I…I’m terrified. Arthur, you could destroy me physically, but even more than that, you could ruin my everything: my reputation, my career… The person I had known the longest, whom I trusted the most…he…he betrayed me and ruined everything—why are you here?”

“Hey,” Arthur purred, lacing his fingers behind Merlin’s nape and pressing their foreheads together. Arthur’s thumbs caught Merlin’s tears as he reinstated, _“I’m not him._ You have every reason to be wary, but not of me. Merlin, to hurt you would be equivalent of harming myself, and we both know how much I like me… Do you understand? I’m so sorry how I’ve treated you. The truth is I was scared and foolish. Merlin, I never want to destroy your everything—you’re _my…”_

Suddenly, Arthur plucked his glasses off, creating a highly disoriented Merlin. His breath audibly whistled in his throat as he gasped in panic. He swayed slightly without Arthur’s hands holding him steady. “Wh-What are you doing?”

“You don’t need to see for this, and I’m not good at talking,” Arthur explained tersely. Tilting his head, he leaned down and captured Merlin’s lips in a brief, but soft kiss. Merlin jerked slightly, shocked and still crying.

“Hm!” he exclaimed quietly when Arthur leaned in for another experimental kiss. One kiss turned into two, and then three, each kiss singular and audible as Arthur learned Merlin’s mouth and coaxed him to relax.

“Lift your chin, love,” he scolded huskily. “I _am_ taller than you. Help me, here.”

He shakily did, and when Arthur’s lips sealed with his once more, he felt Merlin rock onto his toes. Arthur greedily encompassed his waist in his strong arms, kissing him slow and deep, but never penetrating with his tongue. Arthur hummed happily when Merlin’s arms gradually slid up his chest, and then gently went around his neck, holding them flush together.

When they broke apart a moment later, Arthur leaned back slightly, his thumbs grazing over Merlin’s cheeks toward his lips. “I know these lips…I’ve kissed you before.”

Merlin groaned a sigh. “Ugh, _now_ he remembers…”

Arthur blinked dumbly. “When did we…?”

“When you flew me home for my mom,” he explained. “You were drunk, and we were in the flower fields.”

Arthur felt like rolling in the sun like a cat from the sensation of Merlin’s fingers unconsciously playing in his hair while he spoke. Instead he wondered, “Was it good?”

Merlin’s eyes rolled. “Are you asking me if you’re a good drunken kisser?”

Arthur shrugged, and smirked wolfishly when Merlin’s body rose and fell with his shoulders. “Apparently I made it a habit of being intoxicated in your presence. Hopefully something good came out of it.”

Merlin shook his head. “It was just the once, and it was hardly a habit.”

“Mmm,” he moaned deep in his throat. “Maybe it should be.”

He kissed Merlin again, thrilled by how naturally his lips found Merlin’s, except for when the man insisted on speaking. “But you’re not drunk, now,” he said.

“I don’t need to be,” Arthur persisted, muffling Merlin’s attempts at speech with kisses.

“Hmmrph!” he complained at Arthur’s corniness. “That’s so bad!”

The blonde chuckled mischievously. “Let me be bad.”

“Oh my god,” Merlin’s slumped, but the softening of his spine allowed Arthur to hook an arm underneath his ass and lift him against his chest so now Arthur was the one looking up. Merlin’s forearms cradled his head, causing Arthur to smile against his lips. Christ, how could he forget those lips?

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, claiming Merlin’s mouth between words. “I’m sorry. Don’t break up with me because I’m lame.”

“Mmrh?” he exclaimed. “Break—what? You haven’t even asked me out, yet. D-Hm!” he cried when Arthur’s lips cut him off. “Does this mean—?”

 _“Yes,_ it _means,_ Merlin. It means. I’ll take you on another breakfast date in the morning.”

Arthur’s lips were abruptly blocked by Merlin’s hand. “Another? That was a date?” the brunette piped. “You were still with Gwen—you got the waitress’s number from that time! What kind of date do you call that?”

Arthur grumbled beneath his hand, rolling his own eyes. Setting Merlin down, Arthur admitted, “Fine. It wasn’t consciously a date in my mind, but for the record, I didn’t save that woman’s number. I went back to the restaurant to ask her to the Halloween ball in person. Why are we talking about this?”

Merlin seemed to seriously ponder this while his hand remained on Arthur’s shirt since his spectacles were still confiscated. After a moment, Merlin’s lips twisted slightly to the side, his hand fisting the fabric. The blonde realized, “Were you…jealous? Have you been jealous this whole time?”

In order to hide his face, Merlin buried it in Arthur’s chest. “I can _hear_ you smirking.”

“Because I am,” he purred as his hand lifted to cradle the side of Merlin’s head. Arthur nuzzled his hair fondly, breathing him in and kissing the errant cowlicks. “Oh Merlin…I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Those skinny arms slid around Arthur’s waist and Merlin squeezed himself to his frame, and it was the best feeling in the world. Arthur’s own went around his body while one of his hands brushed Merlin’s hair back from his face so Arthur’s lips could press against flesh.

“Ask me properly.”

“Hmm?” Arthur puzzled.

“Ask me on a date properly,” Merlin repeated. He leaned back to point a finger in the general direction of Arthur’s face. “Don’t misinterpret this, Arthur. I’m clingy, damaged, almost two stone underweight, and if you want me, you need to explicitly ask for me.”

Arthur smirked at having his own words thrown back at him while he leaned down for Merlin’s neck. “How explicitly?” he asked huskily, kissing the pale column and watching the vein visibly pulse under Merlin’s skin.

He leaned as far away as Arthur’s embrace allowed. “Don’t tease me.”

“I'm sorry,” Arthur purred, sliding Merlin’s new glasses over his ears. Those dark blue eyes flicked on him, and Arthur liked how a rosy hue bloomed in Merlin’s cheeks just from seeing him. His fingers were laced behind Merlin’s lower back as he asked, “Will you do me the immense honor of accompanying me to breakfast tomorrow? Or…whenever it is we get back.”

Merlin blinked. “I’m not going back.”

Arthur’s jubilation retreated to mediocre happiness. “What? Why not?”

The last thing he expected was a bashful smile. “I have a job,” Merlin replied. “Gwaine’s parents own a winery, and they’ve allowed him to start a new branch of their company. His whiskey’s finally drinkable, and I’m designing the labels. His parents liked them so much, they made me the lead designer for their wine labels and advertisements.”

Arthur huffed a laugh. He was genuinely happy for Merlin, but he was also crestfallen. “That’s great, really, but…we haven’t even started and we’re living in separate places…”

His eyes automatically slid closed as Merlin leaned up on his toes to kiss his lips. “A loud bird named Gwaine told me you were suspended. I have to stay here a couple weeks to get oriented with Gwaine’s parents and the other designers, but ultimately I am mobile. We don’t have to be in separate places.”

Arthur absorbed this and let a moment pass as he processed it. “Really?”

Merlin nodded, causing Arthur’s heart to leap when his hand moved blond tresses out of the way of his face. “The winery does _very_ well. Gwaine’s flat has three rooms, each with its own bathroom.”

Arthur’s brows arched and then furrowed. “We’re not sleeping separately, are we? There’s really no point after…”

Merlin giggled and blushed fiercely. “No, we don’t have to, but I think everyone’s coming over tonight for an after party.”

“Were you hoping to avoid it with your parents?” he realized. “You should go—”

“My dad’s finally taken time off work,” Merlin curtailed. “He and Mom will be fine without me.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for telling me your father’s an _international big deal._ ”

“I told you enough,” Merlin retorted. “He asked me to keep his identity quiet, so I did.”

“Still, I feel uncomfortable keeping you from him after so long,” Arthur admitted.

“We were just going out to dinner,” Merlin proffered, extracting his phone out of his pocket. “If I catch them, do you want to come?”

Arthur obviously did wish to go but he was still wary. “Are you sure?”

Merlin sighed haughtily and already held the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad? Where are you? Is it too late to come back and get me and Arthur?”

He was close enough so Arthur could hear the baritone through the speaker, “Of course not. We haven’t gone anywhere. Look to your right. Those two lumps by the trees are your mom and I eavesdropping.”

Merlin tucked his lips as he and Arthur peeked over, where the two lumps waved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to insert whatever music you want for the events of the chapter, but if you're curious, here are the songs that I imagined:  
> Christmas Gala Montage Video: [High Society by Betty Who](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hr1Gle2mvws)  
> A Cappella Finale: a medley between [Lucy by Adam Lambert](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNoeZoQhNnI) and [Omen by Sam Smith and Disclosure](https://youtu.be/fB63ztKnGvo)  
> Merlin's Dance Video: [Gold by Years and Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KCog-KpzwgY).
> 
> Also, for anyone unfamiliar with the British unit of measure, "stone," one stone is about 14 pounds.


	21. Think This Through

Arthur awoke and peered groggily at Gwaine singing in his sleep. His stubble scratched Arthur’s cheek when his head turned, and Arthur gently shoved his face in the other direction before he went back to nuzzling the softness of Merlin’s hair on his chest. Merlin was all but plastered to him, and everyone else was splayed on Gwaine’s living room floor in some form or fashion. Lancel was on Merlin’s other side with Gwen using his stomach as a pillow. Morgana was on the couch, and Percy and Leon were closest to the kitchen. Elyan was the one conscious enough to drag himself to the guest room before slumber pulled him below.

After Merlin’s parents dropped them off at Gwaine’s flat, the apartment had all but erupted at the sight of Merlin and Arthur holding hands. Merlin had blushed as red as the punch and Gwaine burst into tears for ten minutes, but the after party became a celebration of their relationship as well as the tournament victory.

Merlin sighed in his sleep when Arthur’s arms tightened around him. When his stomach growled however, it worked as well as an alarm clock. Arthur, Lancel, and Morgana perked their heads up. “Wow, feed the beast,” Lancel quipped sleepily.

Merlin rubbed his eyes but otherwise remained where he was. Arthur’s back popped as he maneuvered to his feet, kissing Merlin’s forehead in passing, and trudged to the kitchen. Guinevere’s eyes opened. “Did Arthur just go into the kitchen?”

Morgana and Lancel reacted by rushing to salvage the situation before something burned. The next time Merlin roused, he felt gravity sway beneath him before Arthur settled on the couch with Merlin’s head on his thigh. He wiggled into a more comfortable position before burying his face next to Arthur’s hip. While the blonde slowly woke up until coffee entered his system, he lazily stroked his fingers along Merlin’s nape. His nails dipped below the collar of his shirt before grazing up into his hair and then repeating the process.

Merlin squirmed, shivering slightly, and caused Arthur’s hand to still before Merlin’s reached back for it. “Feels good,” he insisted.

The aromas of coffee, bacon, and spices eventually woke even Elyan upstairs. Arthur found Merlin’s spectacles on the side table and they queued with plates in hand for breakfast. It was when everyone had settled on the furniture or on the floor with their plates that Arthur felt their eyes on him. Lifting his gaze from his platter, he caught them scrutinizing him and Merlin on the couch.

“So…” Morgana prompted. “What’s next?”

Merlin obliviously popped raspberries into his mouth, leaving Arthur defenseless. “I don’t know what you mean,” he lied.

Gwaine harrumphed and stuffed his mouth with eggs. “Come on guys,” Elyan defended, “this isn’t your personal soap opera. That being said, answer the question.”

Arthur adamantly shook his head and plunged his fork into his bacon-sprinkled waffle. “Oh come on!” Gwen ushered. “A date in the park? A summer concert? What’s next?”

Merlin’s head finally perked up and stared dumbly between Arthur and the rest of them. “I haven’t even finished my waffle,” he said weakly.

“Exactly, one thing at a time,” Arthur defended. “And I think we’d both appreciate it if _all_ of you stopped meddling in our business.”

Morgana blatantly snorted. “We got you into this. We’re keeping you here. I’ll call a restaurant and make reservations for you if I have to.”

Merlin stunned Arthur by promptly gripping his chin, and turning his face before pecking a loud kiss on his mouth. He let go as carelessly as if he’d merely handed him the salt. “See? We’re dating. Fuck off.”

Lancel and the a cappella members snorted laughter. Arthur coughed a few laughs and then retorted. “You haven’t even brushed your teeth.”

Merlin pointedly filled his mouth with waffle and slid the fork out as seductively as a mouthful could be. “I taste like syrup.”

Arthur’s dumbstruck expression had Morgana and Guinevere hunched over their plates in laughter. Gwaine froze as if an epiphany had slapped him on the back. “Fuck, the rest of us have to drive back today—”

“I’m coming with,” Arthur corrected, surprising them. “I plan on arranging to take my exams early.”

“Fair enough,” Gwaine nodded. “I can’t trust Merlin’s state of mind with you around.”

Merlin lurched. “What does that mean?”

Gwaine gestured the matter aside. “He burns kitchens and you walk into walls. Between the two of you, I could lose my deposit.”

Arthur snuck in for a kiss on Merlin’s throat, causing him to flush as red as a beet. “Really? You walk into walls?” he purred. “How are you so clumsy yet you dance so well?”

“I’m a sorcerer, not a fairy,” he grumbled, looking away and filling his mouth with raspberries and waffle. When he finished, he abruptly announced he was going to shower, and set his plate in the kitchen. Arthur was not far behind, so he shoveled his eggs and chased Merlin up the stairs. He had not actually been up here, yet, so it took a moment to orient himself as to where Merlin’s room was.

The white dragon on the bed was an easy enough clue. Arthur startled him by sliding his arms around his waist from behind while he picked out clothes. “Merlin, are you all right?”

His breath hitched with the sensation of Arthur’s stubble against his neck. “Yes, I just…I’m just being sensitive.”

Arthur cast him a sideways glance but rested his chin on Merlin’s shoulder without saying what he was thinking: Merlin’s default was sensitive, therefore it was not something he could change, or needed to apologize for. Instead he said, “I don’t like them prying either, but they mean well…I can feel your heart beating.”

And he could. Merlin’s heart was not quickening, but it was steadily pounding harder against his back, allowing Arthur to feel it through his chest. “I like you touching me,” Merlin murmured.

“Yeah?” Arthur countered, even though it was not a question. He liked being in a private room with Merlin; up until now, they’d been subtle for the sake of his parents, in the company of friends. Even when Merlin kissed him, it was short and comical. But here, with solely Arthur, Merlin’s heart couldn’t pretend.

He nodded against Arthur’s hair, and turned in his embrace to find his lips. Arthur was already hunched over him, so they were level with one another when Merlin’s hands grasped his face for the kiss, but as soon as the first touch extended into the next, Arthur’s spine straightened. His hands found the backs of Merlin’s thighs and he lifted him up to his level, setting him on the dresser so Merlin sat just a little bit taller. Arthur’s hands encompassed Merlin’s waist, feeling him, holding him. A thrill shot through Arthur when Merlin’s knees opened, allowing him to stand that much closer.

Arthur’s tongue swiped across Merlin’s bottom lip, tasting sweetness. “You do taste like syrup,” he rumbled.

When Merlin’s eyes opened, they were not quite focused as he said, “I really do need to bathe. I should have last night…”

“But you were too busy lying next to me,” Arthur finished with a small smirk. Merlin’s jaw lowered slightly, on the verge of asking him to come in the shower so he could make those lips swollen and red…but Gwaine had a point. Merlin was far too clumsy to be blind in a slippery environment with Arthur.

Nevertheless, Merlin leaned in so his chest was flush with Arthur’s, hugging him around his torso while he planted soft, slow kisses along Arthur’s neck. “I was surprised you said you wanted to go back to soon.”

Arthur’s eyelids were heavy as Merlin’s lips teased him, but he frowned at his words. “So I can return all the sooner. You said you’d be busy.”

“I will be,” he assured, “I was just taken off guard. I’ll miss you.”

Arthur chuckled and placed a gentle hand on Merlin’s neck so he would lean back and face him. “Next time we’ll actually sleep in the bed, but you can keep it warm for me—” His brow instantly furrowed. “Not _too_ warm—”

Merlin laughed, and it was such a lovely sound. He raised skeptical brows. “I don’t know…if winter holds on…I might have to use the electric sheet.”

Arthur's expression went blank before he peeked over his shoulder at the queen-sized bed. “That bed has an electric sheet?”

A dark brow arched over Merlin’s smirk. His smile bloomed before he bit his lip. “For when I get _cold.”_

Arthur felt a definite stirring in his lower abdomen and pinched Merlin’s side, smiling triumphantly at the squeak Merlin exclaimed. He defensively grabbed Arthur’s wrists which suspiciously settled on his waist. “Get in the shower before I ravish you,” Arthur warned, gently setting him on his feet. Merlin scampered into the bathroom before Arthur tickled him again, however the last thing he saw before he placed his glasses on the counter was his erection springing free of his jeans.

 _Next time, make the bathroom steam before you warm the bed,_ he scolded inwardly.

Arthur adjusted his own jeans and took a moment to make sure everything was behaving itself before he returned downstairs. He met Morgana in the kitchen and helped her with the dishes. “Did we upset him?” she asked gently.

He shrugged for her sake. “He’ll be all right, just dial it down several notches. Merlin likes attention from _me,_ not from a lot of people.”

She bumped him with her hip. “You don’t sound cocky _at all.”_

He chuckled shamelessly. “He’s clingy and I’m selfish. We work.”

Morgana leaned into him since both of their forearms were too sudsy for a hug. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

He snorted, “Sure. Through Gwen, I earned you a new dress.”

“I’m being serious…although I am looking forward to using my earnings. You’re with Merlin, Arthur. That’s a huge deal, not to mention you’ve been dating less than twenty-four hours and you’re already grossly cuter than Lancel and Guinevere.”

“I didn’t know this was a competition,” he sassed, although his spine straightened so his chest puffed a little further out.

“You realize we’ll all disown you if you break his heart again,” she curtailed, deadpan.

Arthur’s shoulders slumped. “Christ, first you’re planning our dates, and now you’re preparing for a break up. Can I just relish the fact that my _boyfriend_ is upstairs taking a shower?”

His breath gave out slightly on the word as it fully hit him that he was Merlin’s boyfriend and vice versa. Morgana peeked at him, noticing the change. “Are you okay?”

He rubbed the bend of his wrist against his shirt, right over the area in his chest where a searing hot sensation was burning through his core. “Yeah…I…didn’t know happiness could hurt.”

Morgana stopped scrubbing and rolled her eyes. “Shut the fuck up. You two are disgusting.”

Arthur felt himself grinning like a fool until the dishes were done, and when Merlin trotted down the stairs with glistening tresses, he scooped him in for a hug and a sniff. “Hmm, you’re right. You do smell better.”

Merlin bluntly gaped until he recovered, “It’s more than I can say for you.”

“I will not be stuck in a car with you for six hours! Go bathe!” Morgana ordered curtly.

Merlin giggled. “You can use whatever you like.”

With the reminder of how long the journey was, Arthur scrubbed every inch and was pleasantly surprised when he found his clothes freshly folded and still warm from a tumble in the dryer. He smelled the lavender and lilac scent of Merlin’s dryer sheets and made a mental note that he would have to step up his game for such a considerate person.

The others were just about ready when he came down the stairs. He took Merlin’s hand while they waited for overnight bags to be packed and thanked him for refreshing his raiment. “The dryer did the work,” he shrugged, and Arthur took that to mean his mind was preoccupied with other things.

“What are you thinking about?”

Merlin inhaled deeply and replied, “The graphic of a merlot label that’s giving me trouble…how I need to edit the line work on my sketches for Gwaine’s malt whiskey. One of the designers asked me to look over a logo before submission and I haven’t witnessed the printers’ outputs, so I don’t yet know whether to design the color schemes darker or lighter than necessary…and I’m anxious how long it will take to finish your exams.”

Arthur tugged Merlin’s hand behind him so he was pulled against the kiss to his cheekbone. “You think too much. Take care of yourself and what you need to do, but don’t worry about me.”

“I know,” he uttered, dropping his chin. “This happened so quickly…I guess I’m afraid some spell will be broken.”

Arthur’s fingertips lifted Merlin's chin so their eyes met. “I’m coming back,” he murmured, leaving no room for debate. He leaned forward to whisper directly in his ear, “And later, I plan to take you home with me. I want you in my bed. The mattress is new.”

He could hear Merlin’s breath halt in his chest. “You can’t just say that before you leave for an undefined amount of time,” he chided. “It’s rude.”

Arthur guffawed, causing some glances to turn their way. His arm snaked around Merlin’s torso to hold him alongside his body. Maintaining a semblance of privacy by dropping his voice, he assured, “I promise I won’t be an inconsiderate lover when we get there. And there is no rush.” He paused to make sure Merlin understood. “Just because I talk about it, doesn’t mean we have to do anything.”

He nodded gently with soft eyes. “Thank you.”

They leaned against one another contently, that is, until Merlin craned his neck to whisper in Arthur’s ear, “Thing is, I don’t want to scare you off by how much I want to do with you.”

Arthur stood frozen for a long moment before he casually murmured against Merlin’s hair, “If you keep talking like that, I’ll never make it out of this flat.”

Merlin giggled and ushered Arthur toward the door since everyone was finally ready. Gwaine saluted him and informed, “I’m trusting you to hold the fort. Adieu, darling.”

“Drive safe everyone,” Merlin sent off. He was gathering his art supplies to work on sketches when his cell phone vibrated.

 _Will you be all right alone?_ Arthur asked.

 _I won’t break, I promise,_ he sent in reply.

 _How can I be sure of that?_ Arthur challenged.

Merlin huffed while his fingers flew across the screen and he trotted up the stairs. He threw the bedclothes in disarray and rolled around so they were thoroughly rumpled before finding the electric sheet dial. He sent Arthur a picture of the dial turned to full blast with the rumpled bed in the background along with the message, _Because I don’t want to waste electricity missing you._

The response was immediate: _HOW ARE THOSE SHEETS MUSSED SO SOON?_

Merlin sent another picture with the dragon peeking out from beneath the sheets. The next text he received was not from Arthur, but Morgana: _Arthur is making sounds I didn’t know he could make. What are you doing to him?_

_Inducing him to study._

Arthur’s reply came a moment later, _That dragon is getting evicted from the bed when I return to you. It’s me or the dragon, Merlin._

_Right now it’s the dragon and the sheet. Go study._

Merlin flopped on the couch and listened to music while sketching and texting Arthur over traffic jambs, Lancel’s questionable taste in music, and what Morgana said in the kitchen.

 _I don’t think you understand,_ Arthur goaded. _Lancel and Gwen are singing a duet in the front of this car and Morgana still stands by that you and I are cuter._

_Because I can actually sing._

The next text was from Guinevere, _EXCUSE ME? What is this Arthur’s cackling about with my singing?_

Merlin put his phone down in order to answer the knocking on the door. His mother smiled at him and his father entered carrying bags of takeout food. Merlin sent Arthur a message letting him know he’d be away from his mobile the rest of the day, and then he blushed and evaded his way through his parents’ discussion over how happy they were for him and Arthur. The next time he communicated with the blonde was the following morning when Arthur called him.

“Winter is relentless. Doesn’t it know March is the entrance of spring?”

“In like a lion, out like a lamb,” Merlin replied, swiveling contently in his workstation chair at the winery’s business building. It was a ways away from the vineyard, but the wall of glass overlooked the rolling pastures of grapevines, and a glass of wine was provided to them as an afternoon pick-me-up.

“Don’t give me your proverbs when my bed is cold, Merlin,” Arthur scolded.

“Oh. You’re _cold,_ you say? I have no sympathy for you.”

Arthur’s tone was anything but vague. “I’m already wearing your marshmallow sweater. I’m telling you I miss you. It’s bad enough it hasn’t been a day and I feel like our red string of fate has been pulled taut; this is a low I am not used to experiencing. What are you doing?”

“I’m at work,” he replied casually, although a smug grin adorned his lips. “Have you arranged your exams?”

Merlin could hear Arthur moving in his bed and stretching. “I have, for the most part. Two of my professors haven’t written the tests yet, so I am not sure when those will be available. Should you be speaking to me at your job?”

“It’s casual, and unless a meeting gets called, as long as I’m still working it’s fine. What are you doing since the semester is over for you?”

In truth, Merlin was neither surprised nor happy that Arthur’s exams could drag out over the next few weeks, but he wanted to take Arthur’s mind from thoughts of being separated for that long. He listened to Arthur tell him about the garden and how he'd successfully made a batch of eggs without Morgana’s supervision.

“Sometimes I grow bored and restless,” he finished, “but it’s a pleasant change, not having anything to fill my time.”

Merlin adjusted his glasses off the bruise on his nose and responded solemnly, “I never thanked you.”

“You don’t have to,” Arthur answered without missing a beat.

“Yes I do,” he countered quietly. “You nearly killed three people for me.”

Arthur’s voice was soft as he iterated, “Merlin, if you’re waiting for this spell to break, I can say from experience that it is a wasted effort. I waited and…when I realized what was happening on the quad, I was what snapped. And if presented with the same choice again, I’d do the same thing, because it wasn’t a choice.”

“Arthur, I can’t get sentimental at work,” Merlin scolded, his voice thick.

His laughter was warm through the speaker. “Okay, waterworks, get back to your job. What time do you get off?”

Merlin told him and Arthur promised to call him later that day before Merlin returned to perusing the history of previous labels, hoping to find something for inspiration toward older, loyal customers who might respond well to a blast from the past. The call from Arthur in the evening turned into a group chat with Arthur, Morgana, Gwaine, and Percy who were over for dinner.

Tuesday progressed with occasional messages between Arthur and Merlin, but Wednesday passed with not a word, causing Merlin to suspect he had one of his exams soon and he hunkered down to study. Merlin sent him a goodnight message and Arthur responded the following morning confirming he’d taken his first exam.

 _Are you making it a habit to be on your phone at work?_ Arthur goaded.

 _I’m just now walking into the building,_ Merlin returned.

_So you’re late to work._

_It’s one of the computer tech’s birthdays! We’re allowed to come in late,_ Merlin sassed.

 _Why does it sound like your job is more play than work?_ Arthur complained.

_We’re not business administrators and it’s a winery. What do you expect?_

Arthur’s reply came a little later so Merlin was already settled at his computer table when he read, _All right, artist. While you’re playing I have to go haggle with a professor about my exam. And I want my portrait in my room._

Merlin stifled a snort as he typed, _Why, so you can stare at yourself?_

He laughed aloud at Arthur’s reply: _Yes. It’s beautiful._

And then fell silent when another message appeared on the screen: _Like you._

Merlin’s gaze softened and he wriggled contently in his seat while he responded, _That bit was delayed. It doesn’t count._

_It absolutely counts!_

_Go to work, blondie. I have playing to do._

Merlin finally got to see the output of the printers and he had to admit that the feeling of seeing his label printed and pasted on a bottle was extremely gratifying. He sent pictures to Gwaine on his way home, and as the kettle whistled with steam, his text conversation was interrupted by a call from Arthur.

“How’s the exam?” Merlin greeted while measuring loose-leaf tea.

“I can’t say I’ll miss Russian Economics,” Arthur rumbled. His fatigue was in his tone, and Merlin heard his Audi beep in the background.

“Are you just now leaving?” he wondered, peeking at the clock on the microwave.

“No, just now getting home,” Arthur amended. “What are you doing?”

“Making tea and talking to Gwaine about his whiskey. The labels were printed today. They look great. Do you need Facetime?”

“That sounds great,” Arthur sighed as he climbed the stairs. “Let me hook up to wifi. Send me a picture of the labels. I need proof Gwaine made something edible.”

Merlin laughed and turned the call on speaker as he navigated through his images. “It was always drinkable, it was just more apt for medicine than parties.”

“Lancel mentioned it was good. Does that mean he was brave enough to try it or was he just saying that—” _Bum. Bum. Bum. Bum._ “What was that?”

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” Merlin narrated as he traversed the living room to the rhythm beating on the door. “It’s probably my mom. She’s been coming over every other day since she’s convinced the fridge isn’t stocked even though she filled it herself—”

Merlin opened the door and gaped dumbly at Arthur ending the call with a beaming grin. “I lied, obviously. I don’t need wifi.”

Merlin felt his features slowly pulling up in a silly grin and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms over Arthur’s shoulders. He stood on his toes while Arthur laughed warmly, encompassing his waist and carefully ushering Merlin backwards so he could shut the door. Arthur leaned his pelvis against the door and bowed forward; Merlin’s spine arched with him while his face buried in Merlin’s neck. He exhaled slowly, soaking in the tingle of Merlin’s fingers in his hair. “Six hours is a long drive,” he sighed.

“What about your exams?” Merlin worried.

“Done. What I said was my first exam was actually my last. My teachers knew why I was suspended and made the tests overnight for me.”

Merlin’s arms tightened around him. “What about Uther?”

Arthur’s thumbs swirled and drew lazy designs down Merlin’s spine. “He and I are on mutually silent terms right now.”

“What does that mean?” he asked huskily, liking the press of Arthur’s fingers.

Arthur leaned back just enough to face him. “It means you and I have a date. Get your shoes and coat.”

The actual getting of the coat and shoes was delayed by Arthur capturing Merlin’s lips. The softness of Merlin’s touch surprised him anew, making him tilt his head for more. The kisses were tender and plentiful, but Arthur managed to stop himself before his chin dipped for Merlin’s neck. His palm brushed over Merlin’s forehead so his hair was not obstructive to Arthur’s view. He surprised Merlin by releasing him and saying, “Here, you’ll need this. It’s cold outside.”

He withdrew a thin box from his blazer and held it between them. Merlin pried off the lid and looked upon a square of purple cashmere, which unfolded into a long, deep violet scarf with a single, silk dragon flying across its length.

“The other one was stained,” he said dryly, earning a keen glare from Merlin.

“Do you always have to buy me expensive scarves?”

Arthur explained, “Not as expensive as you think. Morgana knows a silk merchant who likes to give her discounts. I think she’s given him the impression she’ll marry him if he discounts enough apparel…”

“Should I thank her, then?” Merlin teased, wrapping the fabric over the v-neck of his black sweater.

“No, this is my idea,” he harrumphed. Merlin pecked his cheek and he playfully pushed him toward the coat closet. “Get your coat and shoes. I’m starving.”

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked, shrugging into his leather jacket and crouching over his shoes.

“I researched the area,” Arthur said by way of explanation. “You’ll see.”

Upon locking the flat door, Arthur pulled one of Merlin’s hands out of his pockets and stuffed it into his blazer pocket along with his own. “It’s not far. We can walk,” he informed as they descended the stairs. As they passed a group of people on their way to after-work drinks, Merlin tugged his hand out of Arthur’s pocket, but Arthur held firm, purposefully striding past the group with Merlin’s hand in tow.

A few blocks later, they were strolling downtown and Merlin gazed up at the brightly lit exterior of a two-story restaurant. The host welcomed them from behind a dark wooded booth and checked off Arthur’s reservation before leading them up the stairs. There was not any difference in the upstairs seating than the downstairs, but multiple windows faced over the street for a view of the river sparkling with light. The restaurant was filled with the scents of jambalaya, garlic-cheese rolls, marinated steak, and fresh coffee.

A middle-aged woman with a robust bosom approached their table and placed napkins down for their drinks. “Good evening, gentleman. If I’d known a handsome man like you was going to walk through the door, I would have spruced up a bit better.”

Merlin was looking over the drink menu, so by the time he noticed the silence and peered up to tell her he wanted the Turkish tea, he was caught in the headlights of her stare. Arthur appeared positively baffled.

 _“Oh!_ Thank you,” he beamed. “Um, if I can get the Turkish tea with a glass of water, you’ll be the light of the room.”

Arthur’s eyes looked ready to fall out of his skull. “And for you?” the waitress inquired kindly, although a smile lingered on her face from Merlin’s remark.

“Whatever the coffee product is that smells so good,” he requested, “and a water as well.”

She bustled off and Merlin planted his mouth in his hand, covering his smile. His eyelashes swooped up to survey Arthur’s demeanor. “I don’t think I’m the one getting anyone’s number this time.”

Merlin shook his head gently. “I think she knows this is a date.”

“The light of the room? Really?” Arthur grumbled. Merlin wasn’t sure whether he was unsettled by the line or the compliment to the waitress, but he played it off as the latter.

“Obviously not. She is probably as old as my mother, and I’m on a date.”

“But it counts when she says you’re attractive?” Arthur challenged.

“I think you’re not used to being the second preference for once,” Merlin returned. “It’s my turn. Besides,” he leaned back smugly, “your waitress thinks I’m handsome. Tip her well.”

Arthur smiled and directed his attention to the menu before him. A family strolled past with a pair of children, and Arthur was struck by an idea. Merlin watched blankly as Arthur hopped up from their table, and then a moment later when he returned with one of the kid’s menus and a pair of crayons. Merlin guffawed but accepted the green wax and they worked their way through the tic-tac-toe games, Arthur did the word search while Merlin colored the cartoonish characters, and they drew their own hang man nooses while they waited for their food.

After a dessert of blackberry cobbler, Arthur curled Merlin’s arm with his as they left the restaurant. “So, what is your verdict on our first date?”

“Delicious,” Merlin hummed pleasantly. “You didn’t have to do this, though. Six hours and as many exams in less than a week…I would have been fine on the couch with tea.”

Arthur chuckled. “Does that mean you won’t feel like dancing tonight?”

Merlin peered at him. “Are we dancing tonight?”

“As long as you don’t show me up,” he sassed and gestured down a side street where a lone restaurant stood. “Do you need to be up early?”

“Not particularly,” Merlin considered. “I can spare an hour.”

Descending into the underground club was like entering a haze of wine vapors and hookah smoke. Merlin paused on his way past the bar, where the tender was pouring a distinctly green fluid into a shaker. “Is that absinthe?” he called over the eclectic music.

Arthur waited for the bottle to be set down and read the label before guffawing. “We might need to spare more than an hour here next time.”

Merlin’s head fell back against Arthur’s shoulder when he laughed, and the blonde carefully ushered him forward through the crowd to a patch on the dance floor. It was not long before Merlin leaned up to say, “I think I’m getting second-hand smoke of something that’s not hookah.”

“Too much?” Arthur inquired.

He shook his head. “It’s like a buzz without paying for beer.”

Arthur blurted out laughter to such an extent that he knew he was also being affected. He didn’t care, though. Merlin was bobbing with the music, not occupied with anything other that Arthur’s company. At one point he reached for one of Arthur’s hands, simply entwining some of their fingers together for something to hold on to. Arthur lifted that hand and kissed Merlin’s knuckles as the song changed to something with a higher tempo. The crowd reacted with matching energy, and Arthur drew Merlin closer to him while they danced, the better to dodge flailing elbows and hips.

Sweat began to cause the dark locks to stick to Merlin’s forehead; Arthur swept them aside, but the hand slid behind his ear, inducing Merlin to meet his gaze. They exchanged warm smiles and Merlin’s hand slipped beneath Arthur’s blazer, just a casual stroke over his chest before the hand fell back to Merlin’s side.

The song built, along with the energy of the room. The writhing of dancers pushed Merlin and Arthur from one end of the room to the other, but they hardly noticed as their dance grew closer and touches lingered. Occasionally a peak in the music inspired Merlin to throw his hands up or for Arthur to clap along, but when Merlin licked his lips, Arthur captured his mouth and his tongue.

Suddenly the music was white noise in their ears. Merlin was vaguely aware of moving with the sound, but his hands found Arthur’s hair, and he was lost. Arthur’s tongue searched for his, and when he found it, his arms secured Merlin to his body. Merlin’s hunger matched Arthur’s, so much so Arthur felt Merlin’s growl against his chest.

Abruptly ending the kiss but not releasing Merlin, Arthur maneuvered their way out of the club. The blast of cold air outside was a refreshing shock to their senses, but his stride remained long. He brushed a hand through his hair as he contemplated aloud, “I almost forgot what oxygen feels like.”

Merlin giggled, “You taste like blackberries and coffee.”

Arthur murmured into his hair, “I’m going to taste like you soon.”

After he finagled his keys out of his pocket, Merlin slumped against the apartment door as Arthur buried his face against his neck, standing behind him as he unwound the scarf to claim Merlin’s neck with open-mouthed kisses. “Hhmm…Arthur,” he breathed raggedly. “You keep doing…my hands can’t work the keys…”

Arthur covered Merlin’s hand with his own, and where the key was probing uselessly at the door, he deftly steered it into the lock and turned. Merlin all but fell into the flat, and with a kick of the door and flick of the lock, Arthur went to work removing Merlin’s jacket and sweater. As soon as both were tossed to the couch, Arthur eagerly ducked in for Merlin’s neck again; he felt Merlin’s chest heave as he kissed his way along his collarbone and then down his sternum. Merlin rocked onto his toes when Arthur’s teeth found his nipple, and his spine softly arched up into Arthur’s touch.

“Upstairs. The bed,” Arthur ordered huskily. “I swear, if that sheet is on—”

Merlin hungrily kissed him, slipping his tongue through the seam of Arthur’s lips and finding Arthur’s tongue while he moaned at the taste of succulence and _Arthur_ before he mewled loudly at the sensation of being lifted. Arthur held his thighs, inducing Merlin’s legs to cross behind him as he rushed up the stairs.

“Hah!” Merlin exhaled when he landed on the bed. Arthur swooped down to kiss his lips, his chest, his abdomen, but when his fingers worked at Merlin’s belt, he paused. Merlin noticed the change and rushed, “What?”

“I don’t have condoms,” Arthur realized aloud.

Merlin blinked. “I don’t have lube.”

They stared at each other until laughter bubbled up Arthur’s throat and he lay across Merlin, his breath huffing over Merlin’s shoulder. “I didn’t think this through,” he admitted.

Merlin chortled and stroked his back, kissing his hair while he said, “As aroused as I am, being high is making me sleepy.”

Arthur nodded his understanding. “I’ll ravish you later. Let’s get out of this denim and clean up for bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://lostinpondermoniapondermoniums.tumblr.com/) is finally presentable (after three years *cough*), so if you need an artistic pick-me-up or want to vent about long updates, I'll be there haha.


	22. Language of Flowers

The steady ripples of air on Arthur’s nape brought him to consciousness. He lay on his stomach, but his scope of vision included a slim arm and leg draped over him. It took him longer than rationally necessary to figure out Merlin was lying partially atop him, but when he did he interlaced his fingers under Merlin’s and squeezed until he roused. Instead of rolling off, however, Merlin’s body curled over his, spooning Arthur securely.

Taking matters into his own hands, Arthur rolled over, causing a moan to come from Merlin, but he kept rolling until he could hug Merlin’s front, nestling within the crevasse of his throat.

Then, his alarm went off.

Arthur growled possessively as Merlin’s arm patted the small dresser for his twittering phone. It took a couple tries but he silenced his alarm and stretched within Arthur’s embrace. He pried his other arm free so his limbs could enclose around his larger counterpart. Merlin groaned into Arthur’s hair as he squeezed a last hug and then tried to worm his way out from under him.

Thankfully a window in the bathroom supplied gentle lighting as Merlin donned his spectacles and found his toothbrush. Arthur listened to the water running for a moment and opened his eyes when he heard the glasses clatter gently on the countertop. Merlin was hunched over the sink washing his face in his boxers, still shirtless from the night before. Rising from the bed, Arthur let his treads fall heavily so he didn’t startle Merlin when his arms encompassed his waist. He felt Merlin’s ribs expand with his breaths as he placed a soft kiss on the base of his skull, and began a lazy trail of them down his nape.

Merlin’s head slowly bowed to allow Arthur the full stretch of his spine; his heart beat a little stronger at the prickle of blond stubble brushing between his shoulder blades. Arthur did not want to draw attention to his scars so he kept his kisses along the spine; however it wasn’t Merlin’s scars that deterred his attention, but a distinct symptom of the morning which coincided with waking in the arms of his boyfriend.

Arthur’s large hands descended to Merlin’s hips and felt how the fabric of his underwear was loose. “I suppose the mood of last night does not extend to the morning?”

Merlin inhaled deeply and exhaled, “Right now what I feel goes deeper than arousal.”

Arthur’s eyelashes fluttered over his skin as he murmured. “Profound sentiment this early…you’re going to make me feel bad about myself.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, leaning back for Arthur’s touch and finding his cock straining against his own raiment. “Oh.”

 _“Oh,”_ he chuckled deeply, leaning forward to lightly tug Merlin’s earlobe with his teeth. He startled when Merlin’s hand slipped between them and stroked him through his underwear. His pelvis rocked into Merlin’s grip, and he realized how close he was. “It’s been too long…”

His ears perked up at Merlin’s giggle. “What?”

“Nothing,” Merlin purred, rotating so he could torment Arthur’s neck with kisses while his hand massaged Arthur’s balls and found his most tender places.

“You just want to see me unravel,” he deduced, although he was not bothered by the treatment.

“If it’s by my hand, yes,” Merlin answered bluntly. Arthur reacted by cradling Merlin’s face, guiding him up for a hungry kiss. Merlin’s lips were plump and tasted lightly of mint, and when his nail languidly grazed over the bud of nerves beneath his cock head, Arthur trembled against him. _“Merlin.”_

Merlin’s tongue licked a thin trail over his adams apple before his teeth gently bit the flesh of Arthur’s neck, shooting hot, tingling threads to his core. A couple more pulls, and his forehead fell onto Merlin’s shoulder, breathing heavily and pinning him against the counter. As strong as his orgasm was, Arthur knew it was due to neglect, because even with Merlin’s skin against his lips, his scent in his lungs, and his hands massaging the last of his climax, Arthur wanted to be closer to him. He vowed to find a store supplying condoms and lubricant, and he intended to find it _soon._

Merlin’s arms slid around his neck, and Arthur smiled against his shoulder with the realization that Merlin was the only thing holding him up. “I’ll make breakfast while you shower,” he hummed.

“My clothes are still in my car,” Arthur thought aloud.

“Gwaine will probably have something until you get them,” Merlin proffered, pecking a kiss over Arthur’s temple and cheekbone. “But I need to get ready for work.”

Arthur huffed, “For play.”

“Try not to lose Gwaine’s deposit while I’m gone,” Merlin taunted, feeling behind him for his glasses. Arthur entered the shower with a feeling of dichotomy: blissful contentment and uneasy curiosity. Why wasn’t Merlin aroused? Was he more of a night owl when it came to activity between the sheets? Or there was the viable possibility that Merlin simply took his work seriously and wanted to get there on time… But somehow Arthur feared if the intoxicating fumes from the club had induced last night’s foreplay. Alongside the mental grocery list of lube and condoms, he pinned a note to make sure nothing obstructed Merlin’s state of mind the next time their blood flowed hot. Merlin had openly warned him that he was damaged, and Arthur knew exactly from what he still recovered. If Merlin needed time, Arthur would give him as much as he needed, but if Merlin came to him wanting more, Arthur would make sure he absolutely wanted it before giving everything he had.

Arthur found a shirt and pajama pants waiting for him on the bed; the shirt shouted in bright letters, _LET THERE BE RUM,_ while the pants were calm blue and grey stripes. A plate awaited him in the kitchen consisting of sliced tomatoes piled with avocado slices, bacon, and sprinkled with scrambled eggs and asiago bread crumbs.

“Mmmfuck,” he moaned with his first bite.

Merlin chortled as he chewed the last bite of his own pile. “Thank my mom for the ingredients.”

“Next time I see her,” Arthur nodded, nibbling on a breadcrumb and tasting the burst of flavor across his palette. He glanced at Merlin’s now empty plate and observed, “Now you’re off?”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, and simultaneously reached to set his plate in the sink while he leaned in to kiss Arthur’s cheek. “Love you.”

The plate slipped and landed cacophonously in the steel sink while Arthur involuntarily coughed when he meant to swallow. He pounded his chest to right himself and turned to face Merlin’s expression of appalled terror. “Uh-Um—I—Uh,” he stammered pathetically, his eyes darting between Arthur and the door of escape. “U-Um, it-s-s too soon…?”

Arthur just managed to catch how it was a question before Merlin rushed out of the apartment. By the time Arthur’s food was down the right tube and his breathing was under control, he knew Merlin had already scampered down the stairs and was out of the building. He lost the moment to assure Merlin he wasn’t upset at all, just the opposite.

He hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for it until now.

Merlin’s shoes flew across the sidewalk, his hands clenched inside his jacket pockets as he strode to work. It was a thirty minute walk to the outskirts of the city where the vineyards lay, and while usually Merlin relished the freshness of the morning and the exercise, now every minute was dwelling on the words he hadn’t meant to say.

Well, that was not entirely accurate. He’d been wanting to say them for a long time, always catching them on his tongue before they entered the air. Merlin had never anticipated they would slip right out naturally, unbidden and without warning.

 _Fuck, what is he going to think?_ he worried. _It’s too soon! Much too soon. Oh hell, Merlin, his brain nearly implodes from exams and driving all the way here for you, goes out of his way to arrange a nice date—and then you scare him off!_

Another section of his brain combatted, _He’s said the same thing already, just not in as obvious of terms…right? He’s done everything: defend you, downright saved your life, nearly gone to prison for it, alienated himself from his father…maybe he was just surprised by the words as much as you were..._

Nevertheless, as soon as he entered the building, Merlin plugged music into his ears and proceeded to grind through work and anything else to take his mind away from the back and forth torment inside his head. Every time his thoughts drifted toward how he was going to go home and face Arthur—or even walk into an empty flat—he turned his music up louder.

When his shoulder shook roughly, Merlin nearly fell out of his chair. As soon as he recognized one of his colleagues trying to get his attention, he inadvertently barked, _“What?”_

He appeared just as shaken as Merlin. “I’m sorry, you’ve been deep in the zone all day… We’re leaving.”

Merlin blinked, confused as to what this meant, until he realized how much the lighting in the room had changed; it was no longer the morning, but late afternoon. “Oh…sorry. Okay.”

His apology went mostly unheard, though, since his colleague seemed eager to either get home or away from him. Merlin rubbed his eyes, seriously debating whether it was worth trying to work overtime a couple extra hours, but he heard the jangle of keys and knew everyone was waiting on him so they could commence their Friday plans.

The walk between the winery and the apartment stretched from thirty minutes into forty, and then five more. Merlin’s nerves hastened his pace but the nearer he came to the flat, the quicker the butterflies roamed his belly. He wound up ambling around the neighborhood a few times before hunger and aches in his feet and lower back ushered him home.

It seemed like seconds later his key was sliding into the lock. As famished as he was, he was also quite glad his stomach was empty as his gaze lifted to survey the empty apartment. His eyes locked on something on the coffee table, but it took a long time for him to focus on what it was:

A vase of flowers. Two budding tulips rested on the pillows of hydrangea blossoms while sprigs of honeysuckle fragranced the air.

Merlin’s heart soared as high as it plummeted. _Flowers. Goodbye flowers? Hydrangeas…hydrangeas mean understanding. Honeysuckle is happiness. Tulips mean love and declaration. Does Arthur know flower meanings? If he did…or if he doesn’t…but where is he?_

The flat was silent. Merlin suddenly felt too hot in his jacket. Dumping it right on the floor, he was unwinding his scarf as he strode to the kitchen—

“Merlin.”

He swayed on his feet, which were all but nailed to the floor. He might have stood there forever but he felt a prickle on his back, like electricity sparking off of Arthur and thrumming between them. Merlin slowly rotated, needing verification that Arthur was still here, that he wasn’t so far deep that he was hearing things.

Arthur took one look at him and his warm, topaz blue eyes immediately softened. Without saying anything, he crossed from the stairs to the kitchen in three strides and enveloped Merlin against him. His arms tightened around him while his fingers carded through Merlin’s hair, soothing away hours of stress. Arthur felt Merlin’s glasses against his neck and shoulder, but he did not mind; his attention was on the hands clutching the back of his shirt and the shaky breath on his collarbone.

_Merlin’s a damsel. He wants to be whisked off his feet! Problem is, he’s used to being knocked off of them._

Arthur’s lips brushed the pinna of Merlin’s ear as he said simply, “It’s not too soon.”

A rush of air exhaled from Merlin as if he’d been holding his breath all day. His body sagged against Arthur’s and his head bowed, causing his glasses to rest on Arthur’s shoulder while Merlin’s face pointed downward. Arthur plucked them off and folded the earpieces before inserting them in his back pocket. Merlin’s hands slid between them to cover his face. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing, Merlin,” he purred, lacing his fingers behind the small of his back. He kissed Merlin’s forehead, right where the tips of his fingers ended. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. Let a man swallow next time.”

The way Merlin coughed, Arthur could not tell if it was a laugh or a sob, although as Merlin’s shoulders began to quake, he suspected the latter. When he heard a sniffle, he was sure. “Oh, Merlin,” he breathed, tightening his hold. It was his turn to hold Merlin up, whose weight quickly relinquished to him. Merlin’s heels hovered over the floor, his toes lingering on the carpet while he wept against Arthur, who murmured sweet things against his hair and neck. “I’m sorry, love. If I’d known I’d frightened you so much I would have run after you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The soft kisses he left on Merlin’s neck slowly but gradually eased his tears, and his breathing grew calm. Delicately setting him down, Arthur kept a hand on him while he reached over for tissues and went to work cleaning his beloved’s face. When he got to his nose, Arthur closed it around the tip and ordered, “Blow.”

Merlin’s swollen eyes rolled, but he did. Arthur tossed the tissues beside the flowers until proper disposal, and pecked a couple leisurely kisses on Merlin’s lips. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled when Arthur pressed his forehead to his.

“For what?” the blonde asked huskily.

“Over reacting.”

Arthur hummed deep in his chest, and liked the flutter of Merlin’s lashes from it. “I think in your case, any reacting is justified. I was too full of avocado to return the words.”

“You don’t have to,” Merlin hastily defended.

“Well I’d certainly prefer to as opposed to spitting green chunks everywhere. Hardly romantic. I have standards to upkeep.”

He finally cracked a smile on Merlin’s face, but it faltered. “You don’t have to say it…but...um, could you do something?”

Arthur’s head tipped slightly, intrigued by the request. “Yes.”

Merlin swallowed and pulled the scarf from his shoulders. Holding it aloft he asked, “Could you wear it?”

Arthur observed the richly dark purple of his own choosing and accepted it with the condition, “Yes, but why?”

Despite not wearing his spectacles, Merlin looked away. “I want it to smell like you.”

Arthur unfolded his glasses and placed them on his face just so Merlin could see the wolfish grin he wore. “Do you have a kink, Merlin?”

And just like that, all of the doubts and nerves evaporated from Merlin’s face to be replaced with robust defiance. “It’s perfectly natural to like your partner’s scent!”

The smirk remained on Arthur’s face while he draped the garment around his neck. “Yeah? And what else do you like about me?”

Merlin’s stomach loudly interrupted, causing both of their gazes to drop. Arthur voiced, “Well I’m sure you’ll like that I brought dinner home.”

Merlin’s head popped up, his eyes bright. “Really?”

Arthur laughed and steered his shoulders toward the couch, where once he was sitting, he could see the bags of takeout food underneath the table. He opened a box and inhaled the savory spice of Thai stir fry before smooching a kiss of thanks on Arthur’s jaw and digging in. Arthur briefly observed him stuffing two forkfuls of noodles into his mouth. “You didn’t eat all day, did you?”

It took a moment for Merlin to chew and swallow enough to speak. “I didn’t notice time passing. I think I scared one of my coworkers when he tried to tell me the building was closing.”

Arthur proceeded to eat through his own box, but when he next glanced at Merlin’s he was finishing the last of the noodles and vegetables. It was the most Arthur had ever seen him eat, and took it as a good omen Merlin’s spirits were up. He reached down for a smaller box and offered, “Baklava?”

Merlin’s cheeks were puffed out as he frowned at the box. “Tha’s no’ Thai,” he muffled.

“No, but it’s delicious,” Arthur laughed. Merlin waited for him to finish his own box and accepted the plastic fork handed to him. The flaky layers of filo housed warm honey which induced Merlin to chew slowly, savoring it. He was not even sure what was on the television, he was so engrossed in this meal. As the fork slid out between his lips of his last bite, Arthur leaned in to kiss behind his ear. “Are you happy?”

He nodded sleepily. “Thanks for dinner. Twice.”

Arthur scoffed, “Please don’t keep count. We're not balancing scales.”

Merlin narrowed his gaze on him. “That doesn’t mean I can’t thank you for doing something nice.”

The smirk curved Arthur’s lips once more as he leaned forward again. “I’m always nice.”

His lips closed with Merlin’s, and the stickiness of the remnants of honey created a reluctant seal for when their lips parted. Arthur’s tongue grazed over Merlin’s lip, tasting sweetness. The scent of honeysuckle and hydrangea tickled Merlin’s senses, inducing him to ask, “Is there a reason you picked those flowers specifically?”

Arthur glanced at the vase and uttered, “Being the co-caretaker of a garden, I know a little something of the language of flowers.”

“Your message was very distinct,” Merlin smiled.

“I should hope so after I looked up what I wanted to say,” Arthur admitted. “There are too many flowers to remember.”

Merlin laughed but his attention was drawn to the television, where a familiar voice was singing. He realized they’d been listening to a music channel this entire time, and his eyes darted back to Arthur, whose hand was open, palm up for him. Merlin’s smile turned quizzical. “Do you know this song is called _’I Won’t Dance’?”_

Arthur shrugged. “My mother made sure I knew my way around a ballroom. It’s the one form of dance I’m quite good at.”

Amused and intrigued, Merlin gave him his hand and was pulled to his feet. Rounding the table, Arthur pulled Merlin in by his waist, catching him off guard. “Oh, I’m not used to following.”

Sure enough, they did not make it three steps before Merlin stepped right on Arthur’s foot. “Sorry! Sorry,” he quickly kicked his shoes across the room while Arthur guffawed.

“I’ve finally found something you’re bad at. If you can follow a rhythm, you can follow me instead—eyes up,” he reprimanded smugly.

Merlin’s head jerked up, eyes wide at the turned tables. Arthur’s toes nudged Merlin’s foot back, but a moment later his body leaned one way as if to lead, and he instinctively peered down to find his bearings. Arthur released his torso briefly to pluck his glasses off his face. “Eyes on me.”

“My eyes aren’t anywhere,” Merlin grumbled.

Arthur chuckled, “Follow me, not your eyes.”

He took it slowly at first, letting Merlin accustom to the steps in a single area of space, and then branched outward. Merlin’s hand on his shoulder tightened, but the more they moved, the larger a smile bloomed on his face. It faltered when Arthur stepped back from him, but once he knew he was being twirled, his smile matched Arthur’s. The tempo quickened, and he swept Merlin around the living room, taking care to avoid the corners of the coffee table and entertainment system. Merlin even kept up when he switched to a one-two step before returning to the waltz.

The melody reached its peak, and Arthur brought their round about path back to a single point of space, twirled Merlin thrice, and released his hand to cradle his shoulders in a theatric dip. Merlin’s head fell back, pillowed on Arthur’s arm while his adams apple bobbled with his laughter.

His mirth quickly faded when he felt Arthur’s lips under his chin, along his adams apple, and on his clavicle. Arthur angled him back onto his feet as another song began to play, but his arm left Merlin’s shoulders to take up his hand once more. He drew Merlin close enough for them to lean on one another and simply sway with the music. Every now and then Arthur would move them to a different part of the room, to keep from wearing a hole in Gwaine’s carpet.

After a while, Arthur noticed Merlin’s steps becoming sluggish. Guiding him to the couch, Arthur removing his glasses from his pocket and arranged a pillow for himself to lie back with Merlin nestled on his chest. His breaths exhaled over Merlin’s hair while he lowered the volume, but he could not say when the music drowned in the background of his dreams…

Nor when Gwaine unlocked the door and just barely stopped his bag from loudly landing on the floor upon seeing the pair of them asleep. Naturally, he did what any photography-inclined friend would do: he took a picture of them from every angle while Morgana and Lancel brought in more of his luggage from the VW bus. Gwaine quickly hushed them and gestured to Merlin tucked within the safety of Arthur’s chin. With shocking quietude, Gwaine tiptoed forward and managed to overturn the blanket on the back of the couch over the slumbering pair. Lancel and Morgana exchanged grins and went upstairs to claim the spare beds for themselves.

Gwaine was not so delicate the following morning, however, but he was not what awoke Arthur. Something changed in the room, the lighting or the air conditioning, but when he opened his eyes Morgana was tranquilly looking down at him. He stared at her perplexedly, unsure if this was reality or a bizarre dream, but the conundrum shattered when a skillet crashed over the stove, startling Merlin.

Arthur reacted instinctively, closing his arms around him and turning so Merlin was sandwiched between himself and the spine of the couch. “Wha—What is it?” he mumbled groggily.

“Spirits arrived in the night,” Arthur grumbled, accepting his glasses from Morgana.

When Merlin regained his sight, he stared up at her with wide eyes whereas Arthur’s narrowed. Morgana scowled. “You both are looking at me like I’m a witch. I was just about to wake you before Gwaine…well, you already heard it. And may I just say…” She gestured between the two of them. “Precious.”

Lancel came down the stairs, then, with mussed bedhead and an expression that mirrored how they felt about being awoken. “Morning,” he greeted with a yawn.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked curtly, eliciting an arched brow from his sister.

“Gwaine wanted to move the majority of his things out of the dorm and we thought to check up on you two. Plus Gwaine mentioned a wine and whiskey tasting, which I couldn’t say ‘no’ to.”

Arthur peeked at Merlin, who explained, “They have them every other Saturday. This one’s the debut of his whiskey.”

Gwaine entered the room snacking on a peach as he said, “And you lot are coming back for my graduation. Merlin, you should be free to leave the office after this weekend.”

Arthur again glanced at him for verification. Merlin’s shoulder rolled in a shrug. “He’s technically my boss.”

Gwaine smiled triumphantly and commented, “I saw you borrowed my rum shirt. You know, I have one that says ‘Let There Be Coitus,’ if you were…trying to get a point across.”

He innocently bit into his peach while Arthur’s eyes rolled. He would have made a sharp retort but Merlin settled in his arms, and he no longer cared what the three pairs of eyes were hinting at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is coming, I swear...and a lot of it.
> 
> And the song is Frank Sinatra's [I Won't Dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGwcg4g-1Ik).


	23. Incomplete

Arthur entered the design and advertisement building with Lancel and Morgana since she insisted on taking a little extra time with her hair. Merlin and Gwaine went ahead of them since it was Gwaine’s big night, and right below his name on the bottles was Merlin’s artistic signature.

They followed the signs and general flow of human traffic to the top floor of the four-story structure, where a long, rectangular room opened up with a trestle table stretched through the center. On one side of the table were plastic wine glasses already a filled with wine, and on the other were highball cups of whiskey. The far wall was an expanse of windows looking out over a rolling valley crested with stars and the gibbous moon, and the room itself was lined with computer workstations forming one long, continuous countertop.

“Would you stop fidgeting? Your boyfriend is right there,” Morgana scolded as she carefully scratched her scalp beneath her elegant bun.

Arthur sighed haughtily and made sure no stray threads had frayed on the cuffs of his blazer. The affair was semi-formal and easy enough to accomplish with his wardrobe, however his concerns laid elsewhere. “It’s unusual being at an event that isn’t for a Pendragon. I don’t want to embarrass him.”

Lancel chuckled and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It is near impossible to embarrass Gwaine, and I’m sure Merlin will be glad you’re here. Stop breathing heavily and work your charm as you always do.”

“We’ll be here the whole time in case you make a fool of yourself,” Morgana countered, earning a scowl from her brother. He diverted his attention to the glass wall, where he found Merlin with a group of people including Gwaine. Arthur approached and placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, comforted by the sight of the violet scarf loosely encircling his neck. At some point in time, Merlin had acquired a pair of slacks, which complimented his black, quilted leather jacket nicely. He looked comfortable here.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Gwaine loudly announced Lancel’s name and hugged him outright before he noticed Arthur. The people between them were obviously familiar with Gwaine enough to separate out of his way when he extended his embrace toward Arthur.

In the meantime, Morgana and Lancel sidled to either side of Merlin. “How is the reception?” the former inquired.

“Good,” Merlin nodded gratefully. “I haven’t noticed anyone spitting anything out, at least.”

“And the reception toward the distiller?” Lancel chuckled.

They peeked at Gwaine smacking Arthur’s ass per usual and the ensuing, albeit shocked, giggles that followed from onlookers. “I think they admire his passion…but one night is usually a healthy dose to those who don’t know him.”

“Gwaine, as dear as you are, only one person is allowed to touch me there, now,” Arthur reprimanded, although mirth tinged his tone.

Gwaine appeared the epitome of crestfallen. “You said no such thing beforehand!” He cast accusing eyes on Merlin. “What have you done?”

Merlin’s brows reached for his hairline. Arthur leaned in to whisper something to Gwaine, and it was the first time any of them had ever seen Gwaine blush. After a moment he cleared his throat and nodded. “Fair enough.”

Arthur stepped between Merlin and Morgana, a smug glint in his eyes. “What did you say?” Merlin dared ask.

Arthur peered at him innocently. “Nothing far from the truth, surely.”

Merlin’s gaze connected with Lancel’s, but he shook his head with equal bewilderment. Lancel detached from their cluster to bring back as many cups as he could, handing a whiskey sample to Arthur, Morgana, Gwaine, Merlin, and lastly himself. “We need to toast this night,” he announced. “This passed year has been…well it’s been ludicrous. Let’s be honest, it has been a complete mess, but we’re here together witnessing the impossible. Gwaine’s being successful. Morgana can do no wrong, so it’s just another day for her. Merlin’s got Arthur wrapped around his finger—literally…”

Arthur guffawed while Merlin blushed. At one point Merlin had leaned in and curled his pinkie around Arthur’s, a way to be close but discrete, but he hadn’t realized Lancel’s keen eye had noticed.

“The only thing left is to drag Arthur to a poetry reading or something,” Lancel finished. “What I’m trying to get at, is this is the happiest I’ve ever seen us, and I want to drink Gwaine’s concoction with each of you knowing how glad I am to be a part of this circle of people, and those too busy with study groups to attend.”

They laughed and pressed their cups together with resounding “Cheers!” and sipped the golden amber fluid. The flavors swirled on Arthur’s tongue as the heat dived down his throat, but the aroma was subtle in his nostrils. Overall, it was potent, but delicious.

Morgana voiced this and added, “It’s…sweet, but almost as an afterthought.”

Gwaine beamed. “Cinnamon and honey! I finally figured out the right ratio, with just the _tiniest_ bit of ginger.”

Merlin smirked to himself as he approached the carafe of water on the table to dilute his whiskey and reached for a chaser of sliced fig and cheese on a cracker. Color bloomed under his cheeks when he sipped the sample, and the fruit and cheese was so tasty he reached for another. Arthur caught him when his mouth was full but his question was easy enough: “I’m guessing _that_ computer is yours?”

He pointed to one of the large monitors on which Merlin’s animated dragon was breathing fire. The screens were locked so no one could interfere with them but each showcased the individual designer’s works. Merlin nodded as he dropped his empty cup in the bin at the end of the table. “I feel bad about leaving so soon after they’ve been kind enough to let me customize my workstation. All the designers and Gwaine’s parents have been understanding, though. Between Gwaine’s advertisement campaign and the requests my dad has made, it’s easier for me to be mobile.”

Arthur’s curiosity piqued. “You have two jobs?”

Merlin shrugged. “I wanted to work for _Avalon_ before I ever knew my father was a part of it. Closer to the end of the summer I will need to officially establish myself in the corporal structure, but he’s helping me do that with my own name, not his. He’s asked me just for a few iconographies relating to the chemistry being done for environmental protection; something regular civilians can see and understand but still get the point across. When Gwaine’s done with his debut, I’ll be with _Avalon_ full time.”

“What does this debut entail?” Arthur wondered. He was both proud of Merlin and curious about his work. Arthur had been so integrated in the political field it was refreshing to see another career at work.

“This party,” Merlin gestured around them, “and the a cappella group is meeting for a few recording sessions. Our songs will be in the commercials Gwaine is filming, and might even kick start a musical career for the others if they want it. It’s all good exposure.”

“Are you all right with the attention?” Arthur queried.

Merlin took a moment to contemplate this and ultimately said, “It’s not the attention I’m after, but the outlets for my crafts. It is a relief I won’t have to abandon singing in order to enter the workplace, and I’m not being dropped in a cold deep end. I’m working with talented people I am able to call my friends and family. The future has more light than it does shadows.”

Arthur smiled and teased, “It won’t be long before you’re able to buy a place of your own. Speaking of, where are you staying when we return?”

“Gaius has a room for me,” Merlin assured, although the look that flashed on Arthur’s face induced him to add, “I won’t impose on your father’s house.”

“He is hardly there,” Arthur declared stoically, but Merlin knew when Arthur was pouting.

“Even so,” he held firm, “and I have the feeling I will be more like my father than I anticipated. I’d like to travel with _Avalon.”_

He peeked at Arthur, gauging how this information settled. The blonde gazed back at him ambiguously until he smiled. “Are you expecting me to be upset? You are your own person, Merlin. You don’t have to ask my permission to go anywhere—that being said, I intend to finish school this coming semester. If I chase you around the world, you have been forewarned.”

Merlin guffawed but he could not help asking, “What about Uther?”

Arthur finished his whiskey and countered, “What about him?”

Merlin shifted his weight from foot to foot and uttered, “I feel as if this has become a choice between me and your father. I may not agree with little or anything that he does, but he is still your father. I don’t want you to be in the position of having to choose.”

Arthur tossed his cup in the bin and faced him fully. “After my father’s election is over in November, I have no intention of remaining in his political sphere. I have no doubt he will come to me again for help in the coming weeks, maybe even days, but I want to share my time with you. We don’t have to think farther than the next few months, but my father will either learn to accept the company I keep, or he won’t. The choice is not mine to make… Gaius’s house? Really?”

Merlin’s eyelids dropped to half-mast. “I’ll be right around the corner.”

The night progressed with Merlin remaining adamant about his living arrangements and Arthur pouting in his wake. After the party, they had to tuck Gwaine into bed since he gorged on figs and whiskey, but after a quick shower Merlin fell into bed and his insides tingled warmly when Arthur rolled over to spoon him from behind.

The drive back was tedious and insignificant, but Gaius welcomed Merlin with a feast so large the others were invited inside. Afterward, Morgana invited Gaius to their garden for wine and it seemed winter had finally broken. They heard the first buzzing of the bees along the wall of honeysuckle and fireflies danced over the calla lilies. Merlin slipped inside for a glass of water, but upon opening the cabinet for cups, he found only plates and bowls.

“Morgana rearranges things when she’s restless,” Arthur said behind him, opening a different cabinet. He handed Merlin a tall glass and crossed his arms while he leaned against the island. “How do you feel about being here? I know it wasn’t your intention to come back…”

Merlin thirstily drained the glass and set it in the sink before starting toward the sunroom. “I don’t mind. The people are home, not the place.”

Arthur followed but caught him around the waist in the short hallway separating the kitchen from the sunroom. Around the corner, they could hear Gaius telling a story about a college prank involving mice let loose in the philosophy building. Merlin’s back pressed against the wall, his lungs expanding from the sensations of those large hands holding his sides. Arthur’s chin tilted and he kissed Merlin’s lips, but the gentle attention soon turned hungry and wanting. Arthur’s teeth worried on Merlin’s bottom lip between kisses, and Merlin’s breathing became deep and rapid.

“Humm!” he exclaimed against Arthur’s mouth when his hands descended to his ass, kneading the soft flesh through his trousers. Merlin’s head thunked against the wall as Arthur’s mouth went to work on his neck.

“Stay the night,” he rumbled against his throat.

“I can’t—hahm…” Merlin breathed. Arthur’s thigh parted his legs and further pinned him to the wall. Arthur gently applied pressure to the underside of Merlin’s groin, making him clutch Arthur’s shoulders while his eyes shut to focus on breathing.

“Why not?” Arthur challenged, nibbling his way over Merlin’s ear and the sensitive stretch of neck beneath. His lips curved when Merlin’s hips rocked against his leg, and the lusty mewl when he squeezed Merlin’s ass.

“I…” Merlin huffed, swallowing to clear his throat. “I have…film in the morning…” He meant to shake his head to clear his thoughts, but when his head turned Arthur latched onto the fresh expanse of skin. “Ah! Arthur, I have to be up at dawn.”

Arthur’s hand lifted to cradle Merlin’s nape, allowing his head to sag while the other hand tugged Merlin’s shirt out of the way. Arthur’s tongue tasted the curve of his neck and collarbone between kisses; his fingers pinched Merlin’s nipple through the fabric—

The weather door clapped shut, causing Merlin to flail in panic. Arthur’s hands returned to his waist as his shoulders pivoted to shield him from whoever was about to turn the corner.

“No wonder you’re taking so long,” Gwaine observed flatly. He was hardly fazed as he strolled past them to enter the kitchen. He loudly opened a parcel of popcorn for popping. “Don’t leave any marks on him! We’re filming in the morning and I haven’t decided if I want the mates shirtless or not.”

Arthur leaned down and whispered into Merlin’s ear. “May I have you tonight?”

Merlin’s fingers tightened on his shirt, but after a moment, he nodded against Arthur’s shoulder.

“Gwaine, would you be so kind as to tell Gaius not to wait up for Merlin?” he chimed, sweeping Merlin through the kitchen.

“If I see a mark on him tomorrow I’ll do the same to you!” He popped his lips playfully behind them but Arthur was already reaching for Merlin’s hand and trotting up the stairs. Pulling Merlin into his bedroom, he shut the door and locked it as he pinned him against the door to recommence his path down Merlin’s torso.

Guiding his arms up, Arthur lifted his shirt off and let it fall where it may. Next came Merlin’s belt, which Arthur attentively removed loop by loop while his teeth tugged on Merlin’s earlobe and kissed his shoulder. “Arthur, your shirt,” Merlin whined huskily.

He leaned back to discard the garment, but he paused a moment when he saw Merlin’s eyes drag over his shoulders and chest. He let Merlin’s gaze roam over his torso while his hands slipped beneath his trousers to palm the soft derriere through his underwear. Arthur liked the feel of Merlin’s chest against his own when Merlin leaned in to lick up the artery of his neck; his face turned into Merlin’s hair, breathing him in as he heard Merlin toe his shoes off.

Arthur reached for Merlin’s thighs, lifting him to carry toward the bed. He kicked his own shoes off once he set Merlin down and opened the bedside dresser for a condom package and the bottle of lubricant. Tossing them onto a pillow, Arthur gently splayed a hand across Merlin’s chest, pushing him back across the mattress. With a deft flick and tug on his jeans, Arthur opened them and pushed them to his ankles. His socks came off with the denim, and he lowered himself over Merlin for a long kiss.

Merlin’s hand draped over his thigh, and Arthur knew it was time. He similarly opened his pencil jeans and wriggled them off, lifting his feet in the process. Merlin’s boxer briefs went with them, and his legs collapsed over himself momentarily before he tentatively opened himself for Arthur. Both of their gazes fell on the ruddy cock gently pulsing with his heartbeat. Oddly enough, it was the blonde who appeared the most nervous in that moment. Arthur swallowed and laughed shakily, “I’ve never actually done this before…”

Merlin blinked and mumbled a surprised, “Oh,” and reached between his legs with the lubricant in hand.

“Wait,” Arthur halted, grasping Merlin’s wrist. He received a questioning look and explained, “I would have thought…you would want me…”

Merlin comprehended what he meant and his brows furrowed in a scoff. “I’m not spoiling you. You’ll get lazy if you’re bottom.”

Arthur’s mouth opened to respond but his mind went absolutely blank. Of all the things for Merlin to say, he hadn’t been expecting that. Laughter bubbled up his throat as he shook his head and took the lubricant from him. “In this endeavor, laziness will not do. I can feel my way around.”

Kneeling between Merlin’s legs, Arthur leaned down to kiss his sternum, pausing to give a flick of his tongue over a nipple before he worked his way down his abdomen. His fingers trailing down Merlin’s sides made him shiver against Arthur’s lips, but his hips quaked when Arthur took him inside his mouth. The point of his tongue pressed the underside of his cock, licking along over the veins. Arthur’s lips slid up and off his penis to press a tingling kiss right on the head. With one pump of his hand, though, Merlin whimpered, “A-Arthur, I can’t last…”

“Then I best get started,” Arthur grinned with hooded eyelids. Unscrewing the lubricant lid, he squeezed until his fingers were slick and set it aside for the pads of his fingers to massage Merlin’s entrance. Arthur’s thumb stroked the flesh between Merlin’s scrotum and hole, eliciting pleasant sighs from his lover’s mouth.

“The smallest one first,” Merlin guided, and Arthur did as he bid by carefully inserting his pinkie first. It went in smoothly, but when he was knuckle deep and wiggled his finger, he felt the muscle clench around him.

“Tell me if you’re in pain,” he ordered.

Merlin nodded quickly and shifted his pelvis. “The next one.”

With his ring finger, Arthur delicately loosened the entrance and occasionally massaged the base of Merlin’s erection and balls with his lips and tongue. Arthur’s face turned to kiss his inner thigh when he switched to his middle finger. He’d noticed Merlin relaxed more when Arthur gave attention to his testicles, his cock, so he left nibbles on his inner thighs and the tender flesh of his lower abdomen. Before long, he was able to fit two fingers inside.

“Curl them,” Merlin mewled. When Arthur peeked up at him with a puzzled expression, he gestured a _come hither_ bending of his fingers. Arthur slowly mimicked the movement, almost like scratching an itch inside—

For a split second he felt a distinct slope that was both tender and firm, but Arthur knew he’d found the prostate when Merlin’s back arched and his legs squirmed uselessly. Again, Arthur gently stroked Merlin’s core, and he watched his beloved grow restless.

“Three,” Merlin exhaled in a rush. “Try three.”

He did, and it was a tight fit. Merlin grimaced slightly but Arthur took great care with easing him open and massaging his insides, coaxing them to let him in. After a while, Merlin rubbed his knee against the underwear still around his hips. “Arthur…take these off.”

There was not a graceful way to remove the garment, but the glimmer of lust in Merlin’s eyes and the way his lips parted when Arthur resumed his seat between his thighs was worth it. “Are you ready?”

Merlin nodded and while he tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth, Merlin reached back for a pillow to sit his pelvis a little higher. He quickly reached out for the condom, though, and Arthur relinquished it with an eager glint in his eyes. He rocked onto his knees so his pelvis could lean forward for Merlin’s hands to roll the condom on. Those fingers pushed the latex up, and then trailed over Arthur’s thighs as he lay back. As much as Arthur wanted Merlin’s hands to remain, he wanted something else far more.

Positioning the head of his cock in front of Merlin’s entrance, he peeked up at him to make sure he was all right. Merlin must have taken it to mean he wanted guidance, or perhaps he was simply impatient, because he reached between them and guided his thick, eager length inside. Arthur planted his arms on either side of Merlin’s ribs, delicately taking over and pushing, watching Merlin’s features to make sure he was comfortable. Merlin trembled when he pressed into his prostate, gliding past until Arthur was in to the hilt.

He felt Merlin’s knees rise to give him better access, and they both groaned when Arthur nestled just millimeters deeper, but it made all the difference as Merlin tightened around him. Arthur’s breaths were deep and ragged and he hadn’t even started moving yet. “Fuc-christ, Merlin, you feel so good…I won’t last either.”

Merlin chortled into his hair. “You just have to last long enough.”

Arthur tilted his head and pressed a single, soft kiss on Merlin’s cheek. Easing out until only the tip remained, Arthur felt himself drag along Merlin’s core as he pushed back in. Merlin’s head fell back and he sighed, “Again.”

Because their pace was slow, they endured longer than they both expected, but the moment Arthur centered his weight on his knees and hand in order to pump Merlin’s length, things finished with a quickness. Merlin’s hips arched up for Arthur’s thrust and the latter’s pelvis trembled as he willed himself to keep the pace. Merlin’s hot, hard penis was paradoxically soft velvet in his grip, and sweat adorned the brunette locks as Arthur’s hand slightly twisted with each pull, with each swipe of his thumb over the swollen head.

“Arthur-rhaaah…please,” he begged. Arthur remained slow as to not hurt him, but his next thrust moved him up the bed, earning a guttural cry from Merlin’s throat. The next couple thrusts rocked the bed and Merlin lifted his pelvis himself since the pillow was rendered useless, but then he came _hard_ around Arthur. Seed spurted between Arthur’s fingers but Merlin’s orgasm merely built, suddenly clenching him like a vice and pulling him over the cliff. Arthur’s skull filled with warm numbness while his cock felt like it bathed in Merlin’s fire.

Their climax must have only lasted seconds but it felt like minutes before Arthur collapsed over Merlin, both of them breathing as if they’d been running. Merlin’s hands fumbled around Arthur’s shoulders, stroking his back and brushing through the golden hair. “Feel your way around me anytime.”

Arthur all but snorted against his chest. “Don’t regret your words,” he warned, halfheartedly removing the condom and tossing it in the bin beside the dresser. The last thing he heard were Merlin’s spectacles landing on the bedside dresser.

The next was Merlin’s mobile alarm blaring from his jeans' pocket across the room. Arthur hadn’t moved from inside Merlin’s embrace, but at some point in the night, Merlin had folded the comforter over them since they’d been too busy to move their activity between the sheets. Now, however, he tried to extricate himself from Arthur’s hold, and he was having none of it.

“I half to geddup,” Merlin mumbled, one of his legs hanging off the bed while he felt for his glasses. Arthur rolled so he was directly lying atop him.

“If this becomes a habit I will not be held responsible if you find that damn thing in the toilet.”

“Arthur…you’re crushing my spleen,” he choked. Arthur immediately lifted, and Merlin tumbled off the bed.

Arthur leaned over the edge to ask if he was all right, only to tip onto the floor as Merlin yanked the comforter out from under him. Draping it around his body like a cloak, Merlin went to rummage his jeans and silenced his phone. “Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

“What will you do to me for it?” Arthur challenged.

Merlin’s head whipped around, appearing like a pale Eskimo with the plush bedclothes over his head. He observed Arthur’s prone position on the floor and countered, “I’ll give you back your comforter. There’s a draft on the floor.”

Arthur was blatantly puzzled, not having expected such a response to his sexual flirtations, but a second later he hopped up as gooseflesh rippled across his abdomen and thighs. “Come here.”

“What? No, I have to get ready!” Merlin piped, scampering to the other side of the room. The comforter slowed him down, and it didn’t help when Arthur stepped on the train, making him sway to a halt.

Arthur whipped open the plump cloak and pushed into the heat within. Try as he might to escape the long limbs of muscle, Merlin shivered and wound up pressing himself against the heat which radiated from Arthur. His frigid toes brushed Arthur’s feet, and he felt himself abruptly lifted.

“You’re freezing. You can’t go anywhere. Gwaine will understand,” Arthur declared curtly, climbing back onto the bed with Merlin in tow.

 _“Arthur,”_ he groaned, “This is more than a favor to a friend, it’s my job. I need to get ready.”

His breath caught when Arthur pressed him into the mattress, turning his head to tantalize his ear with his teeth. “If you keep wiggling I won’t be able to control myself,” he warned huskily. “It’s too early to do anything but make love.”

“Another day,” Merlin exhaled, trying to push himself out from under the prowling blonde. “This week is busyEEP! NO!”

Arthur’s fingers found his sides and inner thighs, tickling Merlin with a frenzy. Merlin kicked and squirmed as his chest, throat, and face blushed raspberry. “THA-AH! THAT’SNOTFAIR!”

Arthur laughed deeply. “Where’s your dragon to protect you, Merlin?”

“IT’S YOU, YOU BASTARD!”

Arthur’s movements could not have stopped more suddenly unless Cupid personally slapped him across the face. Merlin took advantage of the pause to roll into a ball and clamp the comforter over him, creating a great white lump on the bed. Arthur rubbed a hand over the slope of Merlin’s back and gently shoved him onto his side to be able to see his face.

“Why do you always say these things that make me want to keep you here for myself?” He opened the bedclothes so he could gather Merlin against him, letting the comforter fall like a cocoon around them.

“What do you mean—”

“It’s rhetorical, Merlin,” Arthur scolded with a chuckle. “Take a shower with me. I’ll get you a toothbrush.”

“I don’t know if I have time for a shower,” Merlin corrected. “Gwaine wants as much of the morning light as he can get—”

“The sun hasn’t even risen yet,” Arthur curtailed. “If you’re going to leave me to a cold bed so early, leave me warm.”

Merlin sighed haughtily, mumbling something that sounded like, “Incorrigible.”

“You like it,” Arthur purred, kissing the hairline of his temple. “Get the water ready. I’ll be there in a minute.”

When he moved to rise from the bed Merlin halted him with a hand on his chest. “Arthur…I typically don’t shower with my glasses. We need to be careful.”

Arthur nodded, all traces of mirth or lust removed from his features. “I won’t let you slip,” he promised, brushing Merlin’s hair off his forehead. “I just want to be near you a while longer.”

He hoisted Merlin to his feet and gently pushed him in the direction of the bathroom while he pulled on his underwear to hunt for a toothbrush in the corridor bathroom. When he returned to his bedroom, he knocked on the door and waited for Merlin’s admission before he entered and squeezed toothpaste over the brush. A peak at the cup by the sink told him Merlin already had his within the shower. Arthur glanced briefly at the folded spectacles on the counter before he dropped his underwear and opened the stall door, entering the cubicle of steam.

Merlin faced the water, so Arthur reached around him to place his brush in hand, and then found his own waiting for him on the ledge beneath the window. “What are you filming for the advertisement?” he asked conversationally. Merlin spat paste and told him the vague explanation Gwaine had provided before reaching for the shampoo.

“Allow me,” Arthur said as he took the bottle from him.

“You want to wash my hair?” Merlin wondered.

“What’s wrong with wanting to take care of you?” he countered, brushing his fingers through Merlin’s slicked tresses.

“Nothing, I guess,” Merlin admitted. “Without my glasses I feel like an invalid either way.”

Arthur frowned, unsure how to respond to that, but he didn’t have to since Merlin rotated and let his forehead drop onto Arthur’s shoulder. His fingers continued to massage his scalp and lather the suds, but his fingertips strayed down his neck to rub the tension from Merlin's nape and shoulders while the white froth slithered down his spine.

“When will you be finished?” he asked, squeezing conditioner into his palm.

Merlin sighed as those fingers went to work again. “The next few days are early mornings and late nights. I’ll need to stay at Gaius’s.”

“All right,” Arthur breathed, already having gone through this discussion. His hands raked over Merlin’s scalp and tugged his head up in the process. Arthur’s hands slid down to cradle his head, lifting his chin for a kiss. Their lips were slippery from the water but Arthur’s tongue tasted the seam of Merlin’s mouth, coaxing his tongue out to meet his. Arthur tasted mint and delved deeper for more, but he kept their kiss slow and gentle. Even though he was already semi-hard and felt Merlin stirring against his thigh, Arthur knew Merlin’s professionalism would lead them nowhere.

Arthur removed is lips to kiss between Merlin’s brows, his temple, and his cheekbone before he finally stepped back and found the soap. While they finished bathing, Arthur contemplated aloud what they would like to do for their next date, and guided Merlin out by firmly holding his forearm. Merlin’s voice muffled under the towel Arthur threw around him, and he was sure Merlin was complaining as he rigorously dried his hair and top half before placing his glasses on his face.

Merlin eyed him peevishly, but Arthur was too busy laughing at his errant cowlicks reaching in all directions. “Now that you’ve made me sufficiently late,” he scolded mildly, but Arthur’s gaze was roaming over his naked frame.

“You’re really hairless, you know that?” Merlin blinked vacantly and Arthur elaborated, “You didn’t shave yesterday, and there’s hardly any stubble on you now…and the hair on your legs is so thin it’s like silk peach fuzz.”

“Are you done writing poetry about my body hair?” Merlin quipped tersely, causing Arthur’s gaze to lift. A slight blush was on his cheeks.

“Are you self-conscious about it?” Arthur purred, pulling on the towel so Merlin was tugged against him.

The muscle in Merlin’s jaw ticked as his teeth ground together. “It’s one less thing I’d like to be aware of,” he informed. “I’ve been teased about not hitting puberty…”

Arthur unconsciously leaned down to kiss his bare shoulder. “I’m not in love with you because of your hair or lack there of, Merlin. Besides, with a man I don’t have to worry whilst throwing you around my bed.”

Merlin’s embarrassed blush darkened with bashfulness. Arthur cinched the towel around his narrow hips and said, “I’ll make you a smoothie…but when you say the next few days will be early mornings and late nights, do you mean we won’t see each other?”

A smirk returned to Merlin’s face. “I’m supposed to be the clingy one. Don’t miss me before I’m gone. And it won’t even be for long.”

“Long enough to be too long,” he returned, pushing a comb far enough through Merlin’s hair so it stuck in place. He pinched Merlin's bum on the way out, smirking and wagging his hand to alleviate the pain of Merlin’s slap.

Upon entering the kitchen in his pajama pants, Arthur quickly prepped the fruit and dropped it into the expensive blender. While it whirred the contents into a satin blend, Morgana came in wearing her black, silk robe. “You two enjoyed yourselves last night.”

Arthur wasn’t even shy about it. “The guest bed is comfortable if you need distance from the noise.”

She snorted delicately. “One of the few benefits of this house is every room is nearly sound proof. I did, however, hear you tormenting him this morning. It really is astonishing, the volume he can reach.”

Arthur chuckled and poured the remnants of the smoothie into a separate glass for her. Merlin entered the kitchen, then, and subconsciously fiddled with his hair when he saw her. “Hi,” he laughed nervously.

“Good morning, darling,” she replied sultrily. “Now you really do have after-sex hair.” Arthur suspected she was fit to burst with pride for the two of them, but she liked watching Merlin squirm all the same.

He intervened with Merlin’s breakfast in a take away cup. Merlin mumbled a thanks as Arthur curled an arm around his waist and steered him toward the front door. _“Thank you for last night,”_ he murmured into his hair.

Merlin’s shoulders hunched, as if he was trying to hide the goofy smile on his face. “Mm hm, you too.”

“Let’s do it again sometime,” Arthur grinned wolfishly.

Merlin was giggling like a fool, now. “As if you have to ask.”

Arthur opened his mouth to give Merlin a retort he was sure would earn him a glossy-eyed, raspberry expression, but Morgana intercepted from the kitchen, “Good god, you two are disgusting. Just go already.”

Merlin was out the door in record time and Arthur shot her a glare. “You will pay for that.”

Morgana was hardly bothered. “He is a working man. We can’t all be slackers like you.”

“I’m suspended!” he defended pointedly.

She caught him off guard by casting a heart-warming smirk across her shoulder. “Yeah, and we all know why.”

Arthur peered at her perplexedly. “Your smile says ‘proud,’ but your tone says ‘blackmail.’”

Her dark lashes kissed her cheeks as she thought about it. She rolled an elegant shoulder. “Not much of a difference, is there?”

Arthur proceeded to spend a large portion of the morning following his sister around the house, pestering her over reasonable tactics of blackmail and reminding her of just how many secrets of her own he could wield.

In the end, though, they wound up watching _The Princess Bride_ over popcorn and delivery food while Arthur kept his mobile close to check for messages from Merlin. Morgana watched his phone light up again and again before she pointed out, “If he’s not busy, he is probably asleep.”

“He hasn’t responded to my texts. He would at least do that much before he went to sleep,” he rationalized.

She sighed loudly and informed, “Lancel’s a part of the filming and he keeps his phone on him. Ask him if you’re so paranoid.”

Arthur took her up on the advice, and sure enough, approximately twenty-odd minutes later he responded, _Yeah, Merlin’s here. Is it urgent? He’s in the studio._

 _No, it’s not a crisis,_ Arthur assured, and curiously added, _Studio?_

Another half hour passed before Lancel replied, _We filmed off and on all day, but the recording studio is only available during night hours._

Arthur frowned at the clock on the wall. _You’re about to be in the early morning hours. I didn’t realize you had so much to do…nor that you had joined the a cappella ensemble._

Wesley was mostly dead by the time Lancel’s text came through: _Haha I’m here for the company. I’m not actually contributing anything other than with the filming. In the credits Gwaine plans to ascribe me as a model._

This piqued Arthur’s attention. _Was Gwaine concerned for Merlin’s state of mind if I was there?_

Lancel’s next response pushed his brows toward his hairline. _What do you mean? We all know you hate taking pictures. Film is literally a sequence of photographs. Gwaine thought you might have an aneurism if he asked you to join in._

He was not wrong, there. Because of the political spotlight given to the Pendragon name, Arthur avoided cameras like rats of the plague; the only tolerable exception being Merlin’s portrait, and that was because it was a graphic painting based on a photograph…and it was Merlin.

 _Exactly what sort of scenes are you filming?_ he asked experimentally.

Arthur was on his way back to his room and he did not read Lancel’s reply until the following morning: _It’s more like sequences than scenes. Yesterday we ran through the airport and right now we’re setting up in a docklands warehouse._

Arthur stared dumbly at the bright screen, one of his eyes buried in the pillow. The nearest place resembling a dockland or setting for warehouse storage was at least two hours from here. _What were you doing in an airport and why did you drive so far?_

Lancel did not reply until Arthur had eaten breakfast and was elbow deep in the garden. Removing his glove, he found an e-mail from Lancel full of pictures taken from the airport and the warehouse in which they were filming. One was of Gwaine with a flight stewardess, another of big, muscly Percy and a security guard with gloves; he looked theatrically nervous while the guard was visibly trying not to laugh. Gwaine had apparently chosen to keep their shirts on for the most part; Merlin and Leon as well as Elyan wore simple, plain t-shirts while Lancel, Percy, and Gwaine himself wore only jeans.

Arthur's eyes roamed longer over the pictures including Merlin. There was a close up shot of him looking down but grinning as Gwaine appeared ready to take a bite out of his cheek. Another was of him on Percy’s back, pointing skyward while Percy held the blade of his hand over his eyes as if to see the distance. Arthur’s personal favorite was an image of the whole group standing in a wonky circle while Merlin sat on a barrel in the background. Everyone was in various stages of being soaked, but Merlin’s shirt clung raggedly to sections of his chest and his black tresses stuck to his temples while he fiddled with a bottle of some kind and a towel.

Arthur almost swiped right past another image but he spotted Merlin in the back, picking at his eye while his glasses rested on his scalp. Arthur wasn’t prepared for the surge of protectiveness that overcame him. He wanted to be there holding those glasses, making sure no one carelessly bumped into Merlin while he was temporarily blind—

“Why do you look ready to murder your phone?” Morgana inquired from her place by the wisteria vines.

Arthur blinked and stared at her as if she’d caught him in her headlights. He glanced at the image again and knew he was being silly. Leon was standing not far off, facing in Merlin’s direction. The others were right there in the picture, and he knew each of them cared deeply for Merlin. He was perfectly safe, not to mention he had plenty of experience handling his glasses on his own. As much as Arthur wanted to fuss over him and take care of him, he knew doing tasks himself would bolster Merlin’s confidence. 

He shook his head and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “Nothing. I just miss him.”

She picked dead bits into a bin while she peered at him from the corner of her eye. “You feel like you’re absent from the fun?”

“Slightly,” he grumbled.

“Mostly,” she corrected. “They’re filming one commercial per day,” she recalled. “I’m sure Gwaine will let you into the last three or four if you ask him.”

Arthur frowned and narrowly avoided pruning something he shouldn’t have. “How is he doing that? I thought one sequence took a day or two to film.”

Morgana took a break in order to retie her hair. “He’s shooting them like he did the videos for the art show. Those took only hours to film. As far as I’ve heard, it’s been easier to film, whereas recording the songs takes the longest. A cappella music is difficult, especially since all the tracks are their own. It is cheaper to avoid paying royalties but it means devoting extra time to create something as high as their standards.”

“When do they sleep?” Arthur wondered.

Morgana chortled and brought over her own mobile. “Guinevere went to deliver lunch for them and walked into this…”

Arthur shielded the screen from sunlight with his hand in order to see the image of young men piled together on the warehouse floor, sound asleep. Gwaine was lying on his stomach while Merlin used his back as a pillow. Arthur couldn’t help laughing, but he worried, “Why are they rushing to complete these advertisements?”

Morgana shook her head. “I think Gwaine wants his whiskey to be known before graduation parties start happening, but also because this week is the study period before exams, so it’s the best time.”

Arthur nodded and together they resumed work in the garden. There was an insurgence of algae which took up the rest of their afternoon cleaning up the fountain, but as cloud cover moved in, casting greyish-blue tones over the atmosphere, Arthur faced a different conundrum. He lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling and not entirely listening to the music playing from the television. Morgana swept down the stairs and breezed past him, only to retrace her steps and scrutinize him. “What is it?”

“I’m getting used to not having Merlin here,” he informed ambiguously.

“And that’s…I don’t know what that means,” his sister replied bluntly.

Arthur elaborated, “When I had to return here for my exams, we were almost apart for a week, and I missed him the entire time. It’s been three days and I can't decide if I miss him worse, or if I’m suddenly getting used to being separate.”

Morgana pondered this for a brief moment and said, “I think that means you’re in a healthy relationship. Plus, you were busy that entire week. This time it’s Merlin who has all of his time occupied, not to mention you know he’s sleeping right down the street, not six hours away.”

She sat on his thighs, making him meet her gaze. “Merlin’s close enough that you're comfortable knowing he's close, but upset he isn't staying here with you. In other words…you’re _bored.”_

He huffed indignantly, but before he could make a retort, she offered another suggestion, “You’ve worked for Uther so long you haven’t had time to find your own hobbies. I’ve been meaning to get wire and screws to hang more of the art from the guest room. It’s time those things were returned to the walls. Do you want me to pick up some paints and canvas?”

Arthur considered that and shook his head. “No, but I’ll help you.”

During their trip to the store and back, the sky darkened, and while the upstairs corridor and living room looked more like a lived-in space, by the next morning it still had not rained. Arthur and Morgana met Gaius for brunch and he commented, “It’s going to be a gully wash whenever they sky begins to fall.”

Morgana was proud they had managed to dig the run off trenches between the flowerbeds and the fence, but Arthur’s thoughts strayed elsewhere. Over the past four days he and Merlin had communicated briefly via text—mostly good mornings and goodnights—but Arthur texted him now, and received his reply a little after dinner.

_It’s already started raining where we were filming, so we finished early._

Arthur was already striding to the garden as he typed, _Excellent. Come over. The gate is open._

_I just walked into Gaius’s. Let me shower and eat, first._

_There is a kitchen and four bathrooms here. I need you._

Merlin responded, _I miss you too but I’m starving._

_Fine, eat, but come._

Merlin’s brows furrowed as he read the terse message. _I leave him for a few days and he becomes a barbarian._ Trotting down the stairs, he entered Gaius’s kitchen and ate the plate of dinner his host had left out for him. He dashed upstairs to brush his teeth before he left, and told Gaius on his way out, “I’m going to, well, to Arthur’s…”

Gaius lifted a hand as if to wave him out, not even bothering to look up from his crossword puzzle. “You needn’t explain anything to me, Merlin.”

He paused, feeling as if he was obligated to lie or explain, but Gaius lifted his eyes and smiled warmly. “Go on, before Arthur comes here looking for you. I’m surprised he hasn’t snuck in during the night, already.”

Merlin smiled because that sounded just like Arthur, and he shut the door behind him. He felt the first raindrops of the storm land in his hair as he rounded the corner and opened the back gate to the garden. The one on the side of the house was overgrown by honeysuckle, but the gate adjacent to the fountain brushed over the grass as Merlin turned to close it—

“Aaah!” he exclaimed when arms wrapped around him from behind, but as Arthur’s mouth sealed hungry kisses on his neck and his teeth nibbled at Merlin’s ear, his panic ebbed into gooey sparks and warmth. He rotated in Arthur’s embrace, seeking his mouth only to be pinned against the gate with Arthur’s thigh grinding between his legs.

Arthur’s lips captured Merlin’s excited sighs while his hands roamed over him, relearning the slim frame. Merlin’s teeth sucked in his bottom lip, earning guttural moans from Arthur’s chest. Ultimately he grabbed Merlin’s narrow hips and lifted him so he could lay him over the grass. Merlin’s legs instinctively crossed behind Arthur’s pelvis, but when gravity tipped and he felt the soft earth beneath him, he tore his mouth free and gasped, “Arthur, it’s started to rain.”

“I don’t care,” he uttered, opening Merlin’s scarf and yanking his shirt down to kiss as much skin as he could.

Merlin couldn’t help his head falling back, nor how his eyes lolled in his sockets at the feeling of Arthur’s tongue lapping along his adams apple. _“Arthur,”_ he whispered, breathless, “there are snakes in the garden.”

The blond head perked up. “I haven’t seen any,” he said, oddly serious despite the hard lump pressing between Merlin’s legs.

“Morgana found one,” he informed, although he neglected to add that she’d found it months ago. “Please…I want to be in your bed.”

With that, Arthur lifted him onto his feet and took his hand to lead him out of the garden and through the house. They were barely up the stairs, though, when his hand dived into Merlin’s jeans. “Well there is an advantage to loose clothing,” he purred huskily, liking the way Merlin lurched to a stop and squirmed against the wall for support.

“Arthur,” he rasped, gripping his forearm but Arthur’s thumb on his urethra made his grip weak. “I can’t be vertical for this.”

Arthur removed his hand in order to sweep his arm behind Merlin’s knees. He carried him the rest of the way and tossed Merlin onto the bed before his large frame slid over him. Merlin laughed as he bounced on the mattress, but his arms lifted the same time his legs parted to wrap around Arthur looming over him. He palmed the front of Merlin’s jeans, massaging the firm weight there until he worked open the button and eased back in order to free his legs of denim and cotton.

Merlin’s erection sprang free and Arthur slipped his shoes off, letting the raiment fall together at the foot of the bed. The room was dark with the night and the storm, but Merlin could see the shadow of ravenous lust in his eyes as he removed his own apparel. Merlin threw his shirt, jacket, and scarf to the side while Arthur spared a moment to gather the lube and condoms from the drawer. When his gaze returned to Merlin, however, he was chin deep under the covers.

He chuckled darkly. “What are you playing at?” But they both knew it was rhetorical as Arthur dived under the covers and chased Merlin around the bed, until Merlin mewled with being dragged under Arthur’s weight. Somehow the man had managed to slick his hands during their play, and Merlin's mewl turned into a deep cry as Arthur’s fingers found his opening and his other hand languidly stroked his cock. Arthur’s own erection pulsed with his rushing heartbeat when he slid two fingers into Merlin with hardly any coaxing.

“Miss me more,” he ordered, curling his fingers inside. Merlin’s knees bucked on either side of his hips and his feet buried in the piled bedclothes around them. “I want your body to beg for mine.”

Merlin whimpered, “It is! It is…please, Arthur. I’m ready.”

Arthur nearly forgot the condom, he was so captivated by Merlin’s wanton need. His own body was screaming for Merlin’s, for his nails in his back, his velvety penis rubbing against his abdomen while he thrust inside…

Slicking a hand over the latex, Arthur felt the tip of his cock expand Merlin’s entrance. As he pressed into Merlin’s prostate, Arthur lifted Merlin’s thighs, pulling him the rest of the way onto his length. He took a moment to simply watch Merlin feel him, how the veins in his neck swelled between breaths, the rise and fall of the plains of his torso, and the slight flinch of the muscles in his lower abdomen when Arthur’s pelvis swiveled for a different angle.

Merlin’s eyes were barely open as he uttered, “You feel…really good.”

Arthur reached out to cradle Merlin’s face in his palm; the flushed cheek turned into his touch. “Four days and this is what you’ve done to me, Merlin.”

Those sapphire eyes sparkled in the dim light and a small smile curved his lips. “Were you bored without me?”

Those supple lips parted wider when Arthur leaned down to hover over him. “I was incomplete,” he uttered, and pulled back just enough to thrust as his lips claimed Merlin’s. Their tongues danced while Merlin’s hands reached for Arthur’s ass, holding him close so he was only able to rut against him, never fully pulling out. The sensation was rocking and subliminal.

Arthur released Merlin’s mouth in order to focus on breathing as their orgasm built. His voice was unrecognizable when Merlin’s teeth bit into the meaty flesh between his neck and shoulder, just hard enough to induce him to thrust harder, moving the bed—

The light _rap-tap-tap_ on the door was so quick he barely heard it, but he shot up instantaneously with Merlin’s eyes opening as wide as saucers as the door opened.

“Arthur, I’ve been meaning to tell you-OH,” Uther Pendragon blurted.

Arthur’s head was turned to see him, but his back concealed the panic stricken figure beneath him. All Uther could see was a fine, pale leg wrapped around Arthur’s hip.

Uther had enough grace to smile abashedly, “Apologies. We’ll talk in the morning. I’ll leave you and the lady to it.”

The door shut and it took a long while before Arthur felt how deeply Merlin’s nails were digging into his biceps. When he met his lover’s gaze, he repeated, dumbfounded, “Lady?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t you dare.”

But Arthur’s features were already cracking into a grin, and he fell atop him to bury his laughter within the pillows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing Arthur whispered to Gwaine to make him blush was, "He goes deeper."
> 
> AND KUDOS TO ANYONE WHO CAN SPOT THE DEAD POETS SOCIETY REFERENCE MAHAHAHA.


	24. Dwelling

Arthur’s eyes opened to see a ghostly blue light scattered across the pillows. Merlin was on the other side of the bed with his back to him as he checked his phone for messages, but even in this early hour, Arthur could hear the steady drumming of rainfall over their heads and how it trickled over the roof, the windows. It was unlikely any filming would occur on this day.

The phone vanished underneath a pillow, and as Arthur’s eyes readjusted to the darkness, he examined the wall of cushions between him and Merlin. He only had four pillows on his bed, but they were all tucked around Merlin, and it was then that Arthur realized his arm was numbly curled beneath his head.

_He really is upset,_ he scolded inwardly. After the intrusion a few hours previous, Arthur had felt himself shoved off as Merlin pointedly turned his back to him.

“Aw, don’t be this way,” he had whined, although the laughter jarring his words did not help his cause. “It could have gone far worse.”

Merlin had all but thrown his glasses onto the dresser and smothered himself beneath a pillow, he was so mortified. Arthur had tried to coax him out from under it, promising to lock the door, but Merlin’s mood had shrunk by the second.

As he listened to the rain, though, Arthur reached out and gently touched Merlin’s arm. He did not flinch from Arthur’s touch, so he stroked his thumb over his shoulder, placing careful caresses on Merlin’s nape, brushing through his hair. “I’m sorry I laughed.”

Arthur’s voice was husky from sleep, but a moment later Merlin left his glasses in his place as he rolled over the pillows and crawled to lie on top of him, his forehead nestled in the cradle of Arthur’s neck. Arthur adjusted the blankets over them so he was covered and warm, and then his hands settled on Merlin’s back. Instead of drifting off to sleep, however, the pads of his fingers began to press circles along Merlin’s spine. His hands dipped with the curve of his lower back before settling there, massaging the slope of his spine and pelvis.

Merlin’s breathing became slow, but Arthur could feel his eyelashes kissing his neck when he blinked. “Are you going to tell him?”

Arthur briefly imagined in his mind’s eye the reaction of his father learning that Merlin was his partner, not a woman. “I suppose I have to,” he admitted, when he considered the alternative: sneaking Merlin in and out of the house. He suspected Merlin would not respond well to this at all, and his suspicions were confirmed by Merlin’s reply: “That isn’t an answer.”

Arthur took a moment to slide a pillow under his head without jostling Merlin. His hands drifted over Merlin’s shoulder blades as they resumed pressing designs across Merlin’s flesh. “The last time I spoke with my father…I guess I thought it had been made clear I had feelings for a man. I never anticipated this sort of misunderstanding.”

“You don’t want to upset him,” Merlin deduced. “You don’t want to disappoint him.”

Arthur’s hands stopped. “It’s not that,” he murmured into the soft, inky hair. His arms tightened around Merlin, one of his hands lifting to card fingers over Merlin’s scalp while sending tingles drifting under his hair and down his spine. “Well…” he hesitated, “maybe it is…but I don’t want the misunderstanding to switch between you and me.”

“Then explain,” Merlin prompted softly, his fingertips following Arthur’s collarbone.

“I don’t want to make him upset,” Arthur confirmed. Merlin could hear him swallow with his heartbeat going _rum pum_ in the background as he continued, “But I would have false hopes if I didn’t expect him to be disappointed when he learns we’re together. None of this changes how I would ache without you near me…how much I like the fragrance of your hair on my pillows…”

Merlin arched a brow as he felt a slight rustle in his hair which could only be Arthur’s nose breathing him in. “If you talk of me of having kinks again— _eeh…”_

Arthur pinched his nose to stifle his words. “Don’t interrupt while I’m declaring my love.”

Merlin swatted his hand away and giggled breathily, “Sorry.”

Rolling over, Arthur shared his pillow while his leg hooked between Merlin’s. “I want to see you,” Merlin said, and Arthur reached behind for his spectacles. Merlin shifted slightly so he was on his back, but his limbs were still entwined with Arthur’s. A large hand settled on his ribcage, and Merlin’s drifted between Arthur’s forearm and bicep.

“He’ll be waiting for you,” Merlin reminded. “What do you think he wanted to tell you?”

“Hard to say,” he answered, his fingers dusting over Merlin’s ribs and the curve of his waist.

“How will you tell him about us?”

“He might broach the subject himself by asking how my company is faring this morning.” A delicate smirk ghosted on Arthur’s lips as he caught Merlin’s hand and kissed his wrist. His eyelashes swooped up and he observed a discomforted expression on his lover’s face. “What are you thinking about?”

Merlin’s gaze lingered on Arthur’s fingers interlacing with his own before he replied, “I could come downstairs with you.”

Arthur tumbled this in his mind for a long minute. The solution was so simple it had passed him right by, but he ultimately shook his head. “I don’t want you to experience my father’s anger.”

He’d grown restless during Arthur’s contemplation, but now Merlin gazed at him skeptically. “Versus you facing it alone?”

A smile formed on Arthur’s face that was so gentle it was almost sad. A finger extended from their combined grip to stroke up the bridge of his nose. Merlin blushed slightly, having imagined something similar once upon a time. “You think too much,” he cooed. “I’ll be all right. Are you hungry?”

Merlin stood with him and partially dressed to brush his teeth and wash his face, but as Arthur spit paste into the sink, he noticed the brunette’s mood had not lifted. Rinsing his mouth, he leaned his pelvis against the counter and watched Merlin for a while before he finally said, “Do you really want to come down with me?”

Merlin’s hands paused under the water before he carefully set the bar of soap back in its dish. “I don’t want to be a secret,” he answered quietly.

Arthur’s chest felt as if he was holding his breath. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the red long-sleeve Merlin had given him over his pajama shorts and waited for Merlin to fully dress in order to take his hand and exit the bedroom. Arthur’s fingers laced with Merlin’s, and while they started loose and comfortable, it soon tightened. He was not sure if he was tugging Merlin forward to get this over with or holding on should the need to run arise.

Rounding the bottom of the staircase, they found the living room empty. Arthur’s eyes lifted toward the kitchen, and his feet moved on their own. The closer they came, the sooner they saw the kitchen light was off, but it was still something of a shock to find the kitchen empty. Merlin and Arthur exchanged silent glances and simultaneously maneuvered toward the sunroom.

Empty.

“Would he still be in his room?” Merlin wondered quietly, as if Uther might awaken if the air but moved.

Arthur’s lips parted in blank confusion as his arm unconsciously slid around Merlin’s waist. Returning to the kitchen, his eyes alighted on a sheet of paper on the island counter he’d missed. Approaching it with Merlin in tow, he read:

_Dear Arthur,_

_I apologize for departing so early without notice; unexpected circumstances demanded my attention. Events have taken me out of town for the next few days and may extend to the next few weeks. I will elaborate on the specifics within an e-mail; expect to receive it later this afternoon. It will also contain a list of chores on which I’d like your assistance, however the matter I wished to discuss with you concerned the sudden influx of interior decorating in the house._

_I saw the hardware store receipt and packaging in the rubbish bin. Did you not know there were already supplies within the gardening garage? I wanted to tell you that if you or your sister insist on removing the items from the guest room, do not hang the Romanian tapestry in the living room, nor to let Morgana lift the bronze Shiva on her own. The tapestry is so dusty it could spontaneously combust near the fireplace._

_Yours truly._

Arthur flipped the page over, but nowhere was there a mention of the intrusion or who Arthur’s guest was. Merlin leaned into Arthur, resting his mouth on the muscly shoulder as his eyes wandered over the words. “What do we do now?”

Arthur seemed at a loss too, until he set the paper down and gently detached from him. “Breakfast.”

He found where Morgana had most recently stored their skillets and began rummaging in the fridge. “Are you going to…to tell him via e-mail or something?” Merlin asked behind him.

“I don’t know,” Arthur answered honestly, removing jars of preserves for toast. “Frankly, I’m happy this doesn’t have to happen today. I’d like to savor my relief before I start planning ahead.”

Merlin settled on one of the high stools while Arthur went about preparing the few things he could manage: smoothies, toast, and the latest addition, scrambled eggs. Arthur did not particularly mind their lack of conversation due to the cacophony of the blender and general clatter of skillets, stove, and cookware, but as he distributed the eggs across two plates on the island, he noticed there was a certain gravity to their silence. He peered up at Merlin, whose face rested within his crossed forearms on the counter. His eyes were drifting but not really seeing.

Arthur pressed a pad of his finger to his forehead, bringing his attention back to the present. “You’re dwelling.”

“Nothing’s been resolved,” Merlin pointed out, lethargically swatting Arthur’s hand away. “I would rather the storm passed today.”

Arthur knew he was not speaking of the rain. He nudged Merlin’s elbow to make room for his plate and lithely climbed onto the seat next to him. He sat erect and accepted the fork offered him, but when his hand closed around it, Arthur’s remained. Merlin peeked up in time to meet Arthur’s kiss. His spine began to soften as he leaned into the kiss, and his head tilted when Arthur’s hand snaked up his nape, tangling with his hair.

Arthur’s lips curved as he sensed Merlin’s unsatisfied libido awaken. His hand moved to cradle the side of his face and separated them enough for Arthur to murmur, “Don’t think about it today. I want to spend it with you, not my father.”

“You’re changing the subject,” Merlin accused.

Arthur smiled. “I have goals.”

“If you say anything about scoring, I will plant your face in your eggs.”

“After all the trouble I went through to not burn them?”

“A fortunate accident,” Merlin countered. Arthur guffawed and playfully shoved his head, relinquishing the fork so he could shovel with his own. He asked Merlin if the weather had indeed rained out the shoot for today, and he confirmed this, but they still planned to meet for dinner at the pub next to campus.

Afterward, Merlin took his and Arthur’s plates to the sink, but after he washed them, he hesitated as to where to put them. Arthur pointed, and Merlin stacked them within the corresponding cabinet. On his way back to his seat, however, Arthur took his hand and pulled him in the direction of the living room. Merlin mistook his direction and thought they were headed towards the front door. “Where are we going?”

“Here,” Arthur replied, sitting on the couch. “I want to kiss you.”

Merlin let himself be pulled forward so his knees knocked against Arthur’s. “You want to make out,” he reiterated.

“Details,” Arthur murmured as his hands inched up Merlin’s hips. “Do you not want to?”

“I didn’t say that,” he admitted.

“Good,” Arthur declared, his eyes hooding as he buckled Merlin’s knees so he landed astride Arthur’s lap. Large hands groped Merlin’s ass while his lips sought Merlin’s neck, but the kisses went much easier than the rough denim barring Arthur’s grip. “I should make it a rule you don’t wear denim here,” he growled.

Merlin involuntarily shuddered against the rumble on his throat. Instead of finding words to respond, he cradled Arthur’s nape and turned their heads to capture his lips. Arthur’s mouth was soft and attentive, almost lazily tasting Merlin but hungrily pleading for more. Arthur’s arms squeezed a sigh from Merlin’s lungs when his arms encompassed his waist, but Merlin felt his fingertips slide beneath the waist of his jeans.

“Do you want to have sex or make out?” he asked, partly teasing but mostly curious.

“I want to do everything with you,” Arthur whispered without missing a beat, and bowed his head once more to suck on Merlin’s neck. He found the special place near the base, between the vein and collarbone that made Merlin’s head fall back. Arthur helped it along by raking a hand through his hair and tugging gently. Merlin gasped as those lips coveted his throat, tantalizing his adams apple before he licked along the underside of his clavicle. When Merlin’s hips bucked against his thighs, Arthur knew it was time.

Standing from the couch, he continued to torment Merlin’s neck as he strode up the stairs with Merlin in his arms. By the time they reached his room, Arthur had Merlin’s shirt yanked off one shoulder and was doing his utmost to draw out Merlin’s sighs and moans from the limited surface area.

Arthur firmly locked the door even though his father was out of town and his sister was on campus. Setting Merlin on the bed, Arthur stood beside the bed with Merlin’s legs entwined around him as he ushered Merlin’s shirt off. His glasses sat a little askew once the fabric hushed to the floor, but he lay back while Arthur removed his crimson long-sleeve, his eyes becoming glossy from the view. He inhaled contently, feeling a warm sensation drip through his abdomen and gather in his pelvis as he watched Arthur’s stomach muscles stretch and clench as his arms lifted to be rid of the garment.

“One day we might put a mirror behind you,” he mused quietly as his fingers grazed Arthur’s hip. “To watch you move from the back would be as sexy as the front.”

“Merlin!” Arthur huffed, successfully yanking off the sweater to reveal blond wisps reaching in all directions and bright, topaz blue eyes. He smirked cheekily down at the rosy cheeks beneath him. Merlin really was beautiful in bed. “I didn’t know you could speak this way. It’s not fair if I’m hot and bothered before you’re naked for me.”

Merlin giggled breathily, his swollen lips revealing a brilliant, soft smile. Arthur liked most how his eyes crinkled almost to point of closing when he was happy, and especially when he was happy and aroused.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Merlin,” he breathed, leaning over him to kiss down his sternum. Merlin’s fingers groped over his wide shoulders, and up his nape to thoroughly ruin all hopes of a decent hair day.

When Arthur’s lips reached his navel, he gripped Merlin’s hips and lifted him further onto the bed before he removed the jeans. They had not bothered fixing the bedclothes, so Merlin sprawled naked in the rumpled pile of sheets and comforter while Arthur recovered a condom and the lubricant. It did not take long for Merlin to relax and open for him, and both he and Arthur exhaled as if relieved when the latter was once more inside him. Merlin interlaced his fingers with Arthur’s as they found their rhythm, but when Merlin reached between them to stroke his cock, Arthur intercepted him.

“Will you turn over and let me do that?”

Merlin blinked, and gradually, albeit suddenly, froze. Arthur’s thrusts came to a simultaneous halt as he glanced into Merlin’s eyes, but the shielded terror told him he’d asked for the wrong thing. A peek down at Merlin’s rapidly shrinking erection confirmed this. Arthur hastily pulled out, causing Merlin to wince slightly before his hand covered himself while the other covered his face.

“I’m sorry!” he choked as he tried to rein in an embarrassed sob. “I’m sorry…it’s so stupid.”

“No it isn’t,” Arthur assured. He eased off of him and tossed a corner of the comforter over Merlin, who instinctively curled into it and used both hands to cover his face. “Bad things happened to you in that position,” Arthur soothed, but he hadn’t a clue what Merlin needed right now. “It was wrong of me to ask.”

“It’s been two years!” Merlin hiccuped. “I should be able to…”

“Ssshh,” he ushered, petting Merlin’s soft cowlicks.

But Merlin was already tumbling downhill. “…I want you in every way…but I can’t…”

“Hush, Merlin,” Arthur ordered as gently as he could. “It’s one position. I should have been more sensitive to what it would make you remember.”

“I don’t want to remember,” Merlin sobbed. “I don’t want that or _him_ blocking me from you. I love you.”

“And I love you,” Arthur huskily, moving Merlin’s hands away just enough for him to kiss his forehead. “This isn’t something a bandage can fix, and I’m not expecting it to be. I know you’re still healing. Don’t be ashamed of that, and don’t hide it from me.”

Merlin sniffled and shook his head. “I’m tired of crying in front of you. No one likes a weepy lover. It’s not sexy.”

Arthur chuckled delicately as he threw the second useless condom into the bin. “I have a confession for you, Merlin.” He waited for the fingers pressed beneath Merlin’s glasses to wipe his tears so the ruddy blue eyes could peek at him. “I’m not attractive when I cry either.”

Merlin’s brows furrowed in a deadpan glare. “Ugh, shut up. You’re handsome in everything.”

Deciding the coast was clear, Arthur scooped Merlin into his embrace, still wrapped in the comforter. Placing two soft kisses between his brows, Arthur murmured, “I don’t think you realize how happy you make me, Merlin. Don’t dwell on it.”

Wiping his tears, Arthur eventually coaxed Merlin into the shower and agreed to collect his graphic art materials from Gaius’s. He also ignored the professor’s smirk as he left the house with Merlin’s rucksack full of clothes for extended overnight slumbers. Merlin did not seem to mind, though, when he emerged from the shower in his pajama shorts and white, long-sleeve shirt. He and Arthur settled on the couch—on opposite ends this time—and spent the majority of the afternoon working on their designated projects.

Arthur scrolled through the e-mail his father had sent and accomplished the menial tasks first, occasionally stealing a peak at Merlin, whose eyes were gradually becoming less swollen the more he worked on his art pieces. Arthur was in the middle of writing a speech when he stared at the laptop screen, his eyes flitting between Merlin’s tablet and the random lines on the screen that were suddenly becoming things, which blossomed with color before facets of light sparked or shadows created glimmers, rendering the parts of the image both realistic as well as an artistic expression; and ten minutes later Arthur realized he’d been watching for half an hour.

Morgana arrived in time for them to change for dinner, and as they made their way to the familiar pub, Arthur tucked Merlin’s hand into his blazer pocket, warding off the lingering spring chill of the evening. Gwaine, Percy, Leon, and the entire group caused quite a ruckus when they arrived, but they eagerly waved the three of them over to one of the larger, round tables.

Merlin stood behind Arthur, waiting to put in his food order at the bar, but when Arthur ordered wine and the tender asked if he’d like a glass or the bottle, he glanced over his shoulder. “Merlin, are you having any?”

His eyes widened, not having considered drinking tonight, but he quickly considered it and nodded. “Sure.”

Arthur resumed his seat and poured in their two glasses as he listened to Eli explain one of the malfunctions that had occurred while filming. He did a double take when Gwaine sat next to him instead of Merlin. Gwaine seemed to read his perplexity and smiled, “Just a quick word. Rain or shine tomorrow, I plan to shoot a particular video, however it will go one of two ways, depending on how you answer. Do you want to be a part of it?”

Arthur could hear Merlin laughing with Guinevere and Morgana by the bar as he thought about it. “How does my answer influence the video?”

Gwaine wriggled in his seat, enthused by his own brilliance. “The video will be something like this,” he gestured around the table, “all of us having fun, but I want you and Merlin to be _yourselves._ As in touch him, hold him, kiss him as much as you like, but I need you to be fine with that kind of exposure. Do you understand?”

He waited a few seconds for this to filter through Arthur’s mind and then added, “I know you hate publicity, mate, so I won’t mind if you don’t want it, but I want a video sans homophobia. I think it’d be a great perspective on whiskey; something people are not used to seeing. I myself am tired of watching hetero models act like they're smitten when they obviously just met that morning.”

Gwaine’s head swiveled as he realized Merlin was maneuvering his way back to their table. “Oh, that’s my cue! Just think about it!”

He winked and scampered around the table to his own seat the same time Merlin appeared. His eyes followed Gwaine’s path and then stared dumbly at Arthur. “Did he want to sit here?”

“No,” Arthur chuckled, waving him into the seat. Once everyone was seated, they lifted their glasses in a toast to the end of the school year alongside Gwaine and Merlin’s graduation, even though the latter was ironically only attending the ceremony for Gwaine instead of participating himself. Over the course of the evening, Arthur found himself gradually scooting closer to Merlin or outright pulling Merlin’s chair nearer. When Arthur caught his hand reaching outward again, he diverted its path to the wine bottle, scolding himself for being so desperate in a public place for Merlin’s touch, especially after spending the whole day with him. Then his thoughts were intercepted by the remaining drops in the bottle; there was just enough to top off his and Merlin’s glasses a final time.

“Wow, I hadn’t thought we would finish this so soon,” he uttered, but when Merlin faced him with rosy cheeks, he became keenly aware of how different their body types were. Arthur was large and muscly, whereas Merlin was shorter, thin, and whose lightweight was therefore having the wine wash right through him.

“It’s good,” Merlin answered ambiguously. Arthur went ahead and dropped off the empty bottle at the bar and returned with two glasses of water, but the finale of wine did Merlin in. He was laughing with the others over a story relating to a wedding fiasco with Percy’s sister, when his mirth faded and he slumped onto the tabletop. Nestled inside the folds of his arms, only Arthur seemed to notice something was off until Morgana pointed and mouthed, _“Is he crying?”_

Arthur, who was rubbing between Merlin’s shoulder blades affectionately, smiled and nodded. “It’s been an emotional day.”

Merlin unceremoniously popped up, wiping his face of tears. “Who’s crying? I’m not! Who cries…”

“And that’s _my_ cue,” Arthur chuckled, smoothly drawing Merlin’s chair out from under the table.

“Do you need help?” Morgana offered, but Arthur shook his head and met Gwaine’s eyes with a wink.

“We’ll be in touch.”

Gwaine beamed and saluted them out of the pub. Merlin had stood from his seat easily enough, but his grip on Arthur was strong. Extricating Merlin’s hand from him, Arthur held him around the waist and continued along the sidewalk while venturing, “What were you thinking about?”

“Huh? Nothing!” Merlin erupted, and tripped right over an uneven segment of cement. Arthur somehow managed to catch him amongst the flailing limbs and set him on his feet before he knelt in front of him.

“Get on.”

“R-Really?” Merlin blurted, but he slid his arms around Arthur’s neck and straddled his lower back for Arthur to grip his thighs and hoist him up.

Merlin bounced lightly on Arthur’s back as they continued toward the house. “What was it?” Arthur prompted again.

“Nothing important,” Merlin insisted. “I’m just inumembriat…umbria-ebriated…inebriated…”

“Drunk,” Arthur provided.

“That’s what I said,” Merlin countered. “Where are we going?”

“To my house.”

“Really? Are we going to make love?”

Arthur rolled his eyes but he was grinning like a fool. “No, Merlin, we’re not.”

_“Why not?”_ Merlin cried, clutching Arthur close enough so he could feel a spectacle earpiece pressing against his temple.

“Because you’re drunk, and I’d like you to be at your fullest capacity to feel all the things I do to you.”

Merlin fell silent but his face nestled against Arthur’s shoulder. When a telltale sniffle reached his ear, Arthur chided, “There you go again, thinking when you’re intoxicated. That’s dangerous.”

“You’re going to get tired of me,” Merlin mumbled.

Arthur’s eyes rolled without the smile this time. “Dare I ask, why?”

“Because I’m always fucking crying!” Merlin proclaimed, causing Arthur to rear away from the power in his voice. “And I’m bad at sex!”

“You’re not bad at sex,” Arthur refuted.

“We’d be having a lot more of it if otherwise,” he countered.

“It’s really not a big deal, Merlin.”

“It is! It is a big deal!” he huffed, and haphazardly gave an attempt at counting on his fingers. “You’ve been inside me…three? Three times? Three times! But we’ve only successfully made love once! I’m a bad boyfriend.”

“The only thing you’re bad at is drinking,” Arthur assured.

Merlin’s head abruptly fell in the curve of his neck and shoulder. “I don’t want you to get tired of me,” he grumbled. “I love you…and it hurts. You’re a real fucking inconvenience.”

Arthur guffawed, to the extent that he doubled over and Merlin was hanging on his back. “Merlin you’re going to be a delightful drunk once we remove the self-deprecation from your thoughts. Never stop loving me.”

“Done,” he returned, and it was Arthur’s turn to fall silent. Resuming his hold on Merlin’s legs, he picked back up his stride toward the house, but even with the alcoholic haze in Merlin’s mind, he could sense Arthur’s mood. “I’ve scared you, haven’t I?”

“No, love,” Arthur uttered quietly. “I’ve scared myself.”

“What do you mean?”

Arthur paused on the sidewalk and turned his head to claim Merlin’s lips. He tasted sweetly of wine and sultrily of himself, but Arthur’s heart kicked up a beat when Merlin’s hand slipped under his blazer. He could feel the warmth of Merlin’s palm through his shirt and he genuinely wondered how Merlin could fear he might grow tired of him. He was terrified he might be obsessed with Merlin for the rest of his life.

“I like you touching me,” he murmured against Merlin’s lips.

He giggled as his lips curved. “Yeah?”

Arthur nodded, nuzzling his forehead with Merlin’s before stealing a few more kisses. With Merlin’s mood finally lifted, Arthur finished the trek to his house and all the way up to his bedroom. They readied for bed and he held the bedclothes open for Merlin to climb in before he rolled over and nestled his backside to Arthur’s front. Not that he minded; Arthur’s arm draped over him and he nuzzled Merlin’s nape, but he wondered how Merlin could be comfortable sleeping this way but not doing sexual things like this.

Without looking, Arthur knew the scars were still on Merlin’s neck, and he knew Merlin had been severely uncomfortable whenever he’d been touched there in the past, but he’d since grown pleasantly acclimated to Arthur’s attention there. He wondered if all Merlin needed was time, which he was happy to give, but then his fingers kneaded the fabric of Merlin’s shirt, as opposed to being bare-chested like he was, and he wondered if the thin fabric was a shield of security for him.

Arthur’s eyes slid over to the dark mass that was his crimson sweater on the floor, and he began to formulate a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I'm moving back to university on Friday so I'm dwelling in pre-traumatic stress. CLING TO SUMMER, MY LOVELIES. NEVER LET GO, JACK.


	25. Like a King

“Huh?”

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Arthur scoffed.

“I can’t wear it,” Merlin declared, standing in his long-sleeve and boxer briefs. “It would swallow me. It’s oversized on _you._ It would be a dress on me.”

Arthur sighed haughtily, still holding out the crimson sweater. “I’ll wear your scarf. I want you to wear this for me…before you leave for work. Please?”

Merlin’s eyelids dropped to half-mast. Jerking the garment from his grip, Merlin marched into the bathroom, firmly shutting it behind him. Arthur obligingly swooped down to pluck the scarf from the floor and entwined it around his neck as he heard a grumbled, “This is pathetic,” from behind the door.

“Come out and show me,” Arthur prompted.

“No! It covers my underwear, it’s so long.”

Arthur looked to the ceiling for guidance and replied, “As long as it smells like you, I don’t care how it looks.”

“Easy for you to say,” Merlin retorted. “I actually look like a marshmallow.”

“I highly doubt that,” Arthur laughed. “You know that door doesn’t have a lock?”

There was a pause, as if Merlin was examining the door to confirm this, and when he was left with no other option, the door opened. Arthur ground his teeth together to prevent himself from laughing. He could not say Merlin was wrong, the sweater was certainly three times too large for him, but at the sight of his disarrayed, bedhead cowlicks, those pale legs, and the embarrassed blush to his cheeks, Arthur’s mirth vanished.

Merlin was fiddling with the slouchy sleeves as Arthur stepped toward him. He glanced up in time for Arthur’s arms to envelope around him, naturally placing his face next to Arthur’s neck. Even through the garment, Arthur could feel Merlin’s heart beating, ever so slightly rocking his slim frame. He meant to say something, either humorous or endearing or both, but he found himself lost for words, simply holding Merlin as close as he could and letting himself be lost in the embrace. Merlin’s arms locked around his waist and his head relaxing on Arthur’s shoulder made him feel powerful in a way he did not know was possible, in a way he did not know he needed.

As much as he wanted to stay here, to take Merlin back to bed and waste the day away, Merlin’s stomach beckoned otherwise. “Let’s feed you,” Arthur purred, rubbing Merlin’s spine.

When they arrived downstairs, though, Morgana was already master of the stove. “Morning,” she chimed, and then did a double take at Merlin before he used the island to hide and she discretely focused on her cooking. She masterfully poached eggs while avocado quiches baked before piling it all together with fresh fruit. Merlin was nearly finished when they heard a loud honking from outside and he dashed out of the kitchen to get dressed.

Morgana stole a peek at his attire when he left and turned quizzical eyes on her brother. “Why did you make him wear that?”

“Don’t get wicked ideas,” he reprimanded around a mouthful of quiche. “It’s part of a plot.”

Her elegant brows rose dubiously as she picked at her fruit. “It’s only ironic that you two argued about fashion when you first met.”

Arthur swept a glare in her direction. “I’m not forcing Merlin to wear anything unreasonable, and it’s for his own good.”

“Mm hm,” she hummed, sipping her tea.

She met his glare with a patient, deadpan look, knowing it was seconds before he buckled and told her what he was scheming. “Look, this _does_ have to do with the bedroom, but I don’t want Merlin’s insecurities spreading around to everyone else’s ears.”

“Whatever kinky business the two of you get up to in this house, stays in this house,” she agreed, “but I want a little explanation in case I catch Merlin in that massive sweater. I can only pretend not to notice for so long.”

Arthur heaved a long exhalation and explained, “There is a certain position he isn’t comfortable with, and I want him used to wearing something with an open undercarriage in order to ease the transition.”

He observed how this information settled in his sister’s countenance, although he was both puzzled and relieved when she uttered tersely, “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

She sneered, “Your plan is actually reasonable. I’m not going to be _that_ sibling who demands every single detail.”

A steady _thum-thum-thum-thum_ was heard as Merlin rushed down the stairs. “Bye! Thanks for breakfast!”

The front door opened and slammed in his haste. Morgana’s brows lifted as she commented, “No goodbye kiss? Tread lightly, brother.”

She gathered hers and Arthur’s plates to take to the sink while he scowled, “The lack thereof doesn’t mean anything. He’s got this complex about _being professional…”_

Morgana chortled. “That bastard. How dare he be an adult?”

“Speaking of,” Arthur segued, “are your exams over?”

She nodded and explained over the running water, “Gwen and I are car-pooling to the warehouse for filming. The guys have to get there early to help set up Gwaine’s latest ideas. And you shouldn’t expect a slumber party tonight; they’ll be in the studio until late.”

“Whose car are you and Guinevere taking?” Arthur inquired.

“Mine—oh,” she turned to scrutinize him. “Were you hoping for an empty seat?”

Arthur shrugged with nonchalance. “Well I _was_ invited by the director.”

Morgana waved her hands, spraying water droplets as she reached for a towel. “But you know what he wants to film, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Her aquamarine eyes widened. “Do you realize what that will mean?”

Arthur’s thumbs fiddled beneath the quartz counter, but as he inhaled deeply, his hands calmed. “This will be a massively public coming out,” he confirmed. “Merlin’s anxious over Uther discovering us, but I care more about settling his nerves than Father’s fury.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, but when Arthur peered across the kitchen at his sister, he found a soft smile on her face. “You’re actually turning into a decent human being,” she commended.

He threw his cloth napkin at her. “Shut the hell up and tell me what the attire is for this video.”

Meanwhile, Merlin tapped a pair of pencils on the window of Gwaine’s VW bus while Elyan spit a rhythm. Gwaine was rapping while Percy and Leon sang melodies behind him.

_“Ya know it’s summer time_

_Ain’t no better place than this_

_All my mates in the bus, spittin’ verse, yeah that’s our fix_

_But we ‘bout to get rich, son, you know we can’ever quit_

_Amber I.V., that’s my whiskey mix_

_Swallow it down, feel the heat in your belly quick_

_You’re listenin’ to the knights of a fellowship_

_Day in and day out, our nights are ambrosia sip_

_And we’ll never sit ‘cause this is our prime.”_

They arrived at the warehouse and removed the tarps over the equipment, swept the floors, and arranged the tracks for Gwaine’s rotary cameras to travel. Percy and Elyan worked together to pull the clattering chain that opened the massive garage-like wall, allowing the warehouse to fill with natural light. Some clouds still remained from yesterday’s storm, causing shards of sunlight and shadow to intermittently reign.

“All right, what sort of torment do you have planned for us today?” Percy jibed as the group rejoined under the high opening of the warehouse.

“Ha ha,” Gwaine laughed mirthlessly. “Keep up that attitude and I’ll find something heavy for you to lift.”

“Opening the door wasn’t enough?” he uttered breathlessly alongside Eli.

Gwaine stood beside Lancel, whose face he fondly patted. “Lancie here is the pretty one. You can pull a hernia just fine.”

“Speaking of pretty,” Eli said between laughs, “when are the ladies getting here?”

“They’ve got baggage to pick up,” Gwaine responded. “Until then, we’re going to play ourselves some games…”

Merlin was rather surprised when Gwaine dropped a board of Monopoly on the table in the center of their circle. The booklet of properties was thrust into his hands while Leon became the banker, and Gwaine rolled first. If Merlin held any hopes of this being a practice in bargaining and economics, he was quickly proved wrong. Gwaine and Percy came to a head on the red properties, and proceeded to thumb wrestle over them. Leon and Elyan contested who could eat more grapes in sixty seconds over the utilities and railroads, and Merlin relaxed in jail while his Boardwalk and Park Place collected cash.

When he was out of jail, though, everyone’s tokens were on the same strip, heading for Free Parking. Over the course of the game, taxes and gambles had created a pile of money in the center of the board, and now they were all rolling for the jackpot.

Elyan rolled too high.

Percy rolled too low, same as Lancel.

Leon lost one of the dice and had to roll again, but he landed on the same property as Percy.

Gwaine, who had been visiting Merlin in jail rolled ten, same as Merlin, and both landed on Free Parking. Gwaine rolled first, however, and while he counted his winnings, Lancel, Leon, and Percy appeared dubious.

“This game is rigged,” Percy deduced, crossing his arms so his biceps bulged.

“There is no way the two of you could have done that,” Leon agreed.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Gwaine chimed, waving his money like a fan, billowing his lustrous curls. “I rolled first. I won. Good show, though, Merlin.”

But Merlin’s guffaws had dwindled as he stared off toward the road, where a familiar black Audi had pulled over the gravel and concrete slabs. Gwen and Morgana were easy enough to recognize over the distance, but the third figure gave Merlin pause. His body recognized the figure sooner than his eyes could comprehend, and before he knew it, Merlin was running.

“In coming,” Morgana muttered.

“Someone’s happy to see you,” Guinevere giggled as she and Morgana parted to give Arthur his space.

“I can’t imagine why,” Morgana snickered as Merlin’s shoes crunched over the gravel. Arthur’s grin bloomed to match Merlin’s, whose arms lifted a moment before he was caught in Arthur’s embrace.

Morgana, Gwen, and the others squinted as the sun broke through the clouds, but Arthur was too busy loosening his hug enough to close his eyes and meet Merlin’s lips. His fingers slightly tugging on Arthur’s scalp sent spritely tingles through his chest, inducing him to tightening his arms around Merlin and bow slightly, demanding a deeper kiss.

When he released Merlin’s lips for breath, Merlin swayed on his feet, laughing breathily. “What are you doing here?”

Arthur grinned wolfishly, or as much as he could through soft eyes. “You didn’t kiss me goodbye,” he accused.

Merlin declared, “I prefer good morning or goodnight kisses, but never goodbye.”

Arthur laughed deep in his chest. “I prefer all kisses.”

“This is a PG rated commercial, gentleman…for the most part,” Gwaine announced. “Get over here so we can finish. There’s a tapas and sangria restaurant that’s calling my name.”

Arthur’s arm naturally found its place around Merlin’s waist and their steps fell into line. Arthur once again noticed the constant ache in his system which only Merlin seemed able to quench; even now, holding him after starting their day together and only being separated for a few hours, that kiss had given Arthur’s heart wings.

But then, this was not a day for secrets. He leaned in so his lips brushed Merlin’s temple as he said, “I’ve been given express consent by the director to be as grossly charming with you as I like.”

His eyes flicked over to where Gwaine had already steered the camera in their direction. Merlin peered up at him. “What did you have in mind— _Nuh!”_

He gasped when the hand on his waist clawed and wriggled tickles from him, turning his abrupt _No!_ into a mess of chortles as Arthur held him close and lifted to spin him around. As Merlin officially became a spineless mass, Arthur heaved him over one shoulder. When he finally reclaimed his breath, Merlin uttered, “Remind me how my suffering is charming?”

“It gives me a reason to have my hands all over you in polite society.”

“Oh right,” Merlin scoffed.

“Where do you want us?” Arthur asked Gwaine.

He laughed and waved his hand as if to gesture anywhere. “As lovely as it is, I’d rather have shots of Merlin’s face than his ass. Anywhere is fine.”

Arthur returned Merlin to his feet and they proceeded through the afternoon with finishing the film sequence. Collectively, they stopped for dinner and then parted ways for those heading to the recording studio versus those going home. Arthur considered sitting in during the session, but when he overheard Leon discussing three a.m. deadlines he lost motivation.

However, after a shower, brief chores, and finally tucking himself into bed, Arthur felt the hours ticking by. He sighed haughtily at his ceiling. When he was sure it must be approaching three in the morning, he grabbed his phone and blinded himself with the screen before he was able to read:

_12:57._

“Oh good god,” he cursed, opening his messaging app. _Are you done yet?_

It was ten minutes before Merlin responded, _Go to bed._

_Answer the question._

_No, I’m not done. Won’t be until maybe 2 a.m. Go to sleep, handsome._

Arthur flopped onto his stomach. _Don’t be sweet to me when I’m missing you._

 _You saw me five hours ago!_ Merlin chided.

Arthur was in the middle of typing his response when Merlin curtailed, _No I’m not coming over. Gaius is already expecting me. I’ll see you tomorrow for the graduation._

Arthur deleted his draft and started a new message for Gaius. He knew the professor was awake either grading papers or indulging his mild insomnia with crossword puzzles or Netflix’s repertoire of mystery shows. Sure enough, the man messaged him back, but he became so distracted with discussing the latest episode of _Sherlock_ that it was two-thirty when he replied, _Oh, Merlin’s been here for an hour, although I believe he’s already asleep. I stopped hearing movement some time ago._

Arthur kicked off the covers and breezed out of the house in his pajama pants and t-shirt. Gaius’s porch light was still on and he answered the door with a slight sneer to his smile. “Second door on the left.”

“Thanks,” Arthur murmured tersely, toeing his shoes off and jogging silently up the carpeted stairs. He tested the door with a few quiet knocks, but upon hearing nothing, he carefully opened the door. A shallow mound disrupted the smooth covers of the bed, and Arthur could tell by the trail of clothing on the floor that Merlin had dropped into slumber the moment he hit the bed.

As delicately as he could so he did not rock the mattress, Arthur slid under the bedclothes and molded himself to Merlin’s relaxed figure. When Arthur’s arm draped over his torso, Merlin gasped, “Mmuh…rthur?”

“Sshh,” he hushed, pecking a lazy kiss on Merlin’s neck. “Sleep, beautiful.”

“Whaarryou doing here?”

“This is so much better than sleeping alone,” he replied, already drifting into his own slumber. “See you in the morning.”

“Mmkay…” Merlin sighed, and the next he knew his arm was asleep beneath Arthur’s head. He tried shifting it out from under the soft, blond tresses, only to have Arthur unconsciously move to the cradle of Merlin’s neck. His arms tightened around Merlin’s body, and around the time blood returned to his fingertips, Merlin realized he was lying alongside the human furnace. “Arthur…i’s hot…”

“Then sweat,” he mumbled in his sleep.

Suddenly, Merlin acknowledged the hour of the morning and jostled Arthur’s shoulder. “We gotta get up.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes we do. We have some place to be in a couple hours.”

“They won’t miss us,” Arthur countered, not lessening his grip on Merlin even a little.

“I think they will,” Merlin refuted, pushing at Arthur’s shoulders but this early in the morning, his limbs weren’t working properly. “I need to shower.”

He finally managed to push Arthur off of him, but Arthur’s hold remained firm and Merlin simply rolled with him to lie atop him. “We can’t stay like this,” he pointed out.

“It’s fine,” Arthur mumbled beneath him.

A number of things sprouted in Merlin’s mind but only one was a sure-fire way to get Arthur out of bed: “Will you shower with me?”

Arthur was silent for a moment before he uttered, “That’s tolerable.”

He let Merlin tug him out of the bedclothes, but Arthur did not fully awaken until they were already stepping out of the shower. Gaius had breakfast waiting for them but Arthur had to stop by his house to dress properly for the ceremony, and then the three of them, along with Morgana, walked onto campus.

The school’s band was already playing the welcoming music as they took their seats on the massive stretch of lawn. A stage had been erected on the far side of the quad, but as the opening speeches commenced, Arthur peeked at Merlin to gauge his demeanor. The last time he was here, just meters away, he’d nearly been beaten blind. Arthur wondered if his restraining order was still in play, but since he was already here he decided to not broach the subject. Instead, he interlocked his fingers with Merlin’s and rested their hands on his thigh while they waited for names to be called so Gwaine could dance across the stage and they could go to lunch.

Which is exactly what he did. Whereas everyone else had taken ten seconds to walk across the stage, Gwaine took fifty, and he used every one to shake his parts in jubilation. The crowd giggled and Gwaine saluted his friends cheering across the lawn. A little while later, the graduates were released to find their family and friends on the lawn. Merlin and the others waited for Gwaine’s rambunctious family to release him and then swarmed with their own hugs and congratulations. Gwaine planted his scarlet cap with its gold tassel on Merlin’s head and demanded twenty pictures before he threw it up in the air. The sound of a girl shrieking in the distance was heard when it landed, but Gwaine only shrugged.

“Are you all right with not walking the stage?” Arthur murmured in Merlin’s ear.

He nodded affirmatively. “This is Gwaine’s day. He and I already share enough successes.”

Arthur peeked at the man earning more giggles from onlookers as he danced his celebratory wiggle. “Gwaine will be celebrating this for the next week.”

Merlin laughed but it was cut short when he overheard voices not partaking in the spectacle. Snippets of a conversation reached his ears which could only be about him:

“…the fag…commotion on the quad?”

“…hospitalized…surprised he’s here…”

Merlin was ready to ignore it, to push himself deeper in his circle of friends and get to the restaurant as soon as possible, but he hadn’t anticipated Arthur hearing the same discussion.

The blonde whirled around, every imposing muscle lifting him to his full height. “What was that?”

The group of three—two men and a woman—reactively faced him. “We were just having a private conversation, fella,” one of them said. “Mind your own.”

“I am,” he uttered. “I don’t like how you’re speaking of my boyfriend.”

Their eyes visibly bulged. The woman went from shocked to crestfallen at the news, whereas the other man foolishly blurted, “Woah, you’re a fag—gay, I mean—”

“Shut up! You know who he is…” the girl hushed.

“He dated the girl in the history department,” one of her counterparts stated as if she hadn’t spoken.

“I guess anyone will do,” the other evaluated.

Heat sparked in Arthur’s belly, urging him forward, but a strong hold around his ribcage yanked him to a halt. He looked down at the splayed hands across his chest. “Please don’t. It doesn’t matter,” Merlin declared behind him. As tightly as he hugged Arthur, if he was set on violently confronting these people, Merlin was a weak leash.

And yet, Arthur’s feet remained rooted in the grass. “They’re wrong,” he managed to say, but it was a poor summation of all of his thoughts. Merlin was not someone to be evaluated purely on his sexuality. He made beautiful things out of nothing but lines and smears of color. He completed university within three years despite only attending a physical campus for two of them. He was an established artist and already making his way into an international enterprise. Arthur was bisexual but not only were his standards high, but placing Merlin in the statement, ‘anyone will do,’ was beyond inaccurate. Merlin had become his everything. No one else would do.

“I know,” he uttered, his hands tightening a little more around Arthur. “I know, and I’m the only one who needs to know. They don’t matter. Please, let’s just go.”

“Is something wrong here?” Leon said behind them, and this roused Arthur to the realization that his fraternity brothers had surrounded him, rising to the threat. Percy, Leon, Lancel, Elyan, and even Gwaine had come to stand at attention.

“This is a graduation ceremony, not your gossip salon,” Gwaine seconded.

“And if you’re going to speak of others,” Morgana chimed alongside them, “either know what the fuck you’re talking about, or have the sense to do it when you’re not outnumbered.”

The three individuals anxiously exchanged looks as if they were debating whether or not to respond, and they ultimately shuffled away. Merlin pulled Arthur back a couple steps before he rotated in Merlin’s embrace to curl his own arm around Merlin’s shoulders. Together they led the pack off of the lawns and piled into Gwaine’s bus. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement to continue the festivities as if no interruption had occurred. Merlin managed to eat the majority of his pesto ravioli and they met up with Gwaine’s family for drinks, even though he was a bottle of wine deep already.

“It’s like watching ice skaters,” Morgana muttered beside Merlin. “Gwaine’s family is a spectacle but I’m constantly waiting for something to fall.”

Merlin snorted into his glass of water and empathized with her wary observation. Gwaine’s family lasted all the way until dinner, though, and they finished another meal before they separated for home. Even though the sun was still up, Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin trudged into the house as if they had been out all day as well as the night.

“Goodnight,” Morgana waved without looking back as she continued along the corridor. Arthur held the bedroom door for him, yawning in the process. He nearly caught it, but the urge to yawn was stifled by the click of the lock.

“Merlin.”

He turned just in time to meet Arthur’s kiss, and was instantly reminded of their first in the field of irises and tulips. Like sparks of a fuse, the first touch induced Merlin’s hands to reach for Arthur, but this time the sparks hit dynamite. Their kisses turned messy as their hands sought flesh. Merlin was pretty sure he kissed Arthur with a slip of fabric between their lips but neither of them cared since the garment was instantaneously thrown elsewhere. Merlin yelped when his hips rocked against the curt yank of his jeans to his ankles.

His eyelashes fluttered and his jaw dropped when Arthur’s mouth found his cock, licking and teasing sharp pulses of pleasure from his tender spots…until Merlin gasped at the feel of Arthur’s throat around him.

“A-A-Arthur!” he breathed, half terrified he would cause Arthur to suffocate but also on the verge of begging for a deeper pull. And then, as if hearing his thoughts, Arthur swallowed. Merlin exhaled audibly, swaying with his own heartbeat. He felt too many sensations, like he was going to cum, scream, and collapse all at once. This translated in his throat as high-pitched gasps, inducing Arthur to rise and capture his lips, ravishing Merlin's mouth.

Merlin could only try to keep up while his fingers fumbled at Arthur’s trousers. He realized he’d been pushed toward the bed only when his knees buckled and he felt onto the softness. Arthur shucked his raiment in a final, fluid movement, and then his predatory gaze raked over Merlin with wanton satisfaction. Merlin’s legs instinctively went around his waist, so as Arthur moved up the bed, Merlin dragged with him. His head fell back as Arthur’s tongue lapped at his nipple before giving a tentative bite.

While Merlin was distracted, Arthur’s hand slid underneath his pillow for the lubricant bottle and Merlin jumped slightly when attention was given to his entrance. The pads of Arthur’s fingers massaged the circular muscle, swirling along his opening for the first finger to stretch inside. Arthur’s lips left Merlin’s so he could knead his balls with his lips, straying to his sensitive inner thighs for nibbles while two fingers carefully wriggled inside. Arthur found Merlin’s prostate and tormented it with different methods, experimenting what made Merlin sigh or outright cry with need.

“Arthur…aahh…” he breathed raggedly. “Either do that faster or get inside me.”

He chose the latter. Taking Merlin’s penis in hand, Arthur stroked him languidly as he eased his way in to the hilt. He adjusted the condom while Merlin’s hips swiveled, causing a groan to escape Arthur’s throat. Lifting one of Merlin’s legs, he tilted Merlin’s pelvis and created a stretch in the back of his thigh that parted Merlin’s lips. Arthur draped the leg over his shoulder, and he knew the slight strain on the muscle made Merlin extra sensitive by the way his abdominal muscles flinched.

“All right?” he asked.

Merlin nodded eagerly and Arthur withdrew to thrust in deep. After another, Merlin exhaled slowly with a single word: “Harder.”

Arthur was only too happy to oblige. Merlin’s sighs became louder as his pelvis lifted off the bed with each pump of Arthur’s hips. Merlin swallowed thickly as all too soon his orgasm began to climb. Suddenly his arm shot out, reaching for Arthur’s nape to either pull himself up or to yank Arthur down, but they met halfway and Merlin rasped against Arthur’s hair, “Harder. Oh god, Arthur fuck me…”

A rush of air exited Merlin’s lungs as he was abruptly pinned to the bed. Arthur shifted his leg so Merlin’s knee fell over the bend of his elbow. Merlin reached for a pillow to lift his pelvis higher, but he never managed to acquire it as Arthur’s thrusts rocked the bed frame.

“Aahaah,” Arthur shuddered, nearing his own climax. “Good christ you feel so good.”

He knew he would only last for another few thrusts, so he bit the meat of Merlin’s shoulder the same moment his thumbnail flicked the tip of his cock. The over stimulation of his urethra sent Merlin over the edge, arching his spine so his pelvis undulated with Arthur’s, dragging his orgasm out as long as he could.

Arthur followed, _hard._ Even when the main shocks of his orgasm subsided he continued thrusting, lingering and bathing in the gooey waves of the afterwards. When he finally pulled out, he collapsed in Merlin’s arms, blinking sleepily while fingertips dragged through his hairline. “Merlin…”

“I know,” he whispered.

Arthur could not say how long they lay like this, with Merlin stroking his beloved’s hair and Arthur listening to the rapid drumming of his heart slow to a strong thrumming, but all of a sudden Arthur felt his eyes moisten. The area beneath his sternum felt tight, as if a knot was clenching there. A dichotomous blend of terror and humor almost made him guffaw with tears running down his cheeks because he remembered a conversation long ago he’d had with Merlin involving knots. Merlin had been unsure of how to find his way into the friendship group and yet he had slipped right in while Arthur was the one with a tight knot forming around his heart.

And heaven knew Merlin held the end of the string.

“I need you again,” he whispered.

“Huh?” Merlin uttered, having not quite heard him, but Arthur was already reaching for a fresh condom, and Merlin’s eyes dropped to the eager member between Arthur’s legs.

“Please,” he exhaled, kissing all across Merlin’s torso. “May I have you again?”

Merlin’s breath caught when Arthur licked up the seed splattered around his navel. The sight and feeling was enough for blood to rush back into Merlin’s length. If Arthur wanted him so badly, Merlin was powerless to say no.

He surprised Arthur by grabbing his face and craning it up for a kiss. Merlin tasted the slightly salty bitterness of himself inside Arthur’s mouth but he did not care. The blonde moaned an exclamation as Merlin’s legs locked around him and his pelvis heaved, keeling Arthur onto his back with Merlin on top of him.

Except when Merlin leaned down to continue their kiss, his glasses slid off the bridge of his nose to thunk against Arthur’s. They shared a laugh while Arthur removed the spectacles to the bedside dresser. “We don’t really need those anyway,” he consoled.

“I have the perfect view,” Merlin simultaneously scolded and complained, although Arthur seriously doubted the statement. His cock was bobbing gently on his abdomen just from the sight of Merlin taking control. “You don’t play fair.”

Reaching up, Arthur cupped the side of Merlin’s face, bringing him back down for a quick kiss. “I could accuse you of the same. What would I do without you, Merlin?”

“You’d get bored,” Merlin smiled and sat erect once more. Arthur’s lips parted as Merlin lifted onto his knees and positioned Arthur at his entrance before slowly sliding down. Arthur’s hands couldn’t reach enough of him; his palms caressed Merlin’s slim thighs and traveled up the plains of his torso to tweak and tease his nipples while Merlin acclimated to being filled once again. His fingertips clawed and pressed into Arthur’s pectorals, his face wincing as sharp tingles shot between his nipples and cockstand.

But his hips bucked, and it was Arthur’s turn to arch over the mattress. His pelvis lifted, eager for more friction, more heat, more anything and everything that was _Merlin_ , but the man himself leaned back and transferred his hands to Arthur’s thighs to hold him down. The arch in his slender spine made his figure more pronounced, muscle as well as bone, and Arthur gaze consumed it all. Merlin’s lips parted when he felt Arthur swell just a little bit more, and when Merlin lifted to position Arthur right at his prostate, he whimpered in such a way that Arthur feared how long he would last.

There was something…different about Merlin without his glasses; not aesthetically, but his sensory was altered. With his vision, Merlin was preoccupied with what he was seeing and how he was seen, but without it…his senses were entirely based on touch, sound, and taste. As he found his rhythm, his facial features relaxed, and Arthur watched as his lips parted for gasps, moans, or smiled as a particular thrill shot through him. Arthur forced his pelvis to remain still, only gently meeting Merlin’s rocking pace with each thrust, and he was rewarded with Merlin’s hands returning to his torso. Just the dusting of fingertips across his sternum and stomach made Arthur’s hands clench around Merlin’s hips, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of his ass.

Those plump lips parted for breath but Arthur beat him to it: “Merlin!”

Arthur felt his hand guided to Merlin’s penis, but within two strokes, Merlin’s jaw dropped and seed spurted across Arthur’s wrist. His other hand firmly held Merlin’s ass, which had lost his pace, causing Arthur to buck his hips once, twice, and the third made his spine bow off the bed.

Merlin removed the condom for him and gave Arthur another surprise when he felt his way to the bathroom for a hot towel. As he cleaned the both of them, Arthur felt thoroughly ready for sleep. When he heard the towel land in the sink, he opened his eyes long enough to ease himself under the covers and held them open for Merlin. Their bodies molded together without any prompting, and Arthur fell asleep with the clean, floral spice of Merlin’s hair in his dreams.

The following morning, Arthur blinked reluctantly against the sound of drizzling rain against his window. He momentarily commended Gwaine’s luck for having the sunny day for graduation during the monsoon end of spring before he became keenly aware of the emptiness in his bed.

Trudging down the stairs, he smelled the earthy scent of tea in the air and heard the soft clatter of wooden spoons in the kitchen. Turning the corner, the first thing Arthur noticed were Merlin’s cowlicks bouncing airily while he moved about the stove and counter space. The second, was his own crimson sweater hanging around Merlin’s body. Just in the seconds he spent staring, Merlin had to shove the sleeves up his arms twice, and Arthur couldn’t help himself…

Merlin gasped as long, strong arms enveloped him from behind. The butter knife he held clunked against the wooden cutting board, and Arthur felt the smear of molten butter on his forearms when Merlin grasped at him. “Arthur,” he exhaled when he finally managed a glimpse at the blond hair resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me you’re naked under there,” Arthur murmured huskily, his lips brushing the slender neck. His arms squeezed Merlin, liking the cuddly nature the sweater lent, although his tight embrace caused Merlin’s next retort to come out strained.

“I’m making breakfast _up here—hey!”_

Arthur’s hands dipped underneath the hem, grazing up Merlin’s bare thighs to find there was nothing but Merlin in his hands. Arthur chuckled deviously as he nibbling on Merlin’s earlobe while he felt Merlin’s flesh grow warm and swollen. “You’re not very focused on breakfast.”

“And whose fault is that?” Merlin shot back breathlessly. “We…We’re in the kitchen. Morgana could wake up any minute.”

“Are you making excuses?”

“No! Arthur, please,” Merlin complained, squirming in the hot hands working him into unbearable stiffness. His head fell back on Arthur’s shoulder, a mixture of lust and embarrassment blossoming beneath his cheeks. “Not here…hahh!”

The rushed sound escaped him when Arthur abruptly drew him to the sunroom. Without further ado, Arthur dropped onto the cushions of the octagonal end of the room with Merlin on his lap. The sun had not yet risen over the garden, causing indigo hues to fall through the peaked, glass ceiling. Merlin scolded, “This is hardly better!”

Arthur recommenced his torment between Merlin’s legs, pulling him close so his back pressed against his chest. Despite Merlin’s words, his knees spread for greater access and his feet hooked behind Arthur’s calves.

“Only we’re awake at this ungodly hour,” Arthur cooed the same time a distinct _pop!_ was heard.

Merlin’s head turned and his hooded eyes widened at the open cap of the travel sized bottle of lubricant Arthur had hidden away in his pajama pants. “Y-You planned this?”

“What did I say was the only tolerable activity this early?” Arthur reminded.

Merlin shuddered and immediately softened when Arthur’s fingertips massaged deep in the tissue beneath his scrotum. “T-To…make love…insatiable bastard.”

Arthur smiled into Merlin’s hair, already two fingers deep. “Really, love, do you think my sister would be surprised?”

“Don’ttalkaboutsomeoneelsewhenyou’reinsideme!” Merlin snapped.

“I’m just saying, it’s not a secret how I crave you.”

“Shut up…” Merlin huffed weakly. “Finish what you started.”

Sliding a third finger inside Merlin’s hole, Arthur used his other hand to free his own thick cock from the drawstring of his pajamas. “Tell me what you want, Merlin.”

His breathing was audible as he exclaimed. “What? Are you trying to be coy or are you really clueless?”

Merlin shook with the laughter in Arthur’s chest. “I want you to say it. Or we can go back to breakfast…”

Arthur only just managed to rear his head out of the way as Merlin’s swiveled to face him with a look of barely subdued horror. Just as quickly, his sapphire eyes closed and Merlin’s lips sought Arthur’s. His hand reached around for Arthur's nape, gently scratching at his hair and silently pleading for a deeper kiss. Arthur gave it to him, his fingers lazily stroking inside while his thumb rubbed Merlin’s throbbing length. When he released Merlin’s mouth with a gasp, the latter whispered, “I want more than your fingers inside me…I want...I don't know how to say it..."

"Just say it," Arthur begged, not caring for finesse at this point.

Merlin inhaled and said, "I want you around me…everywhere.”

“Lean forward,” Arthur all but growled, unable to restrain himself any longer. Sliding his hands beneath Merlin’s thighs to lift him, he ordered, “Guide me in,” and felt Merlin’s fingers over the condom he’d already unrolled. Once he felt his tip in the right place, Arthur lowered Merlin over him. Even though Merlin was already loose from the hours previous, the plunge inside him made him fall back against Arthur, opening his throat to kisses and nibbles while he simply felt Arthur pulsing inside him for a long moment.

“Merlin…” Arthur rasped. “I’m at your mercy.”

It was all the prompting Merlin needed. Shifting his pelvis, he leaned forward enough to grip Arthur’s knees and experimentally lifted and slid down Arthur’s cock. When he shuddered almost violently, Arthur leaned forward too, once again pressing his chest to Merlin’s spine. “Is this not good?” he asked, concerned.

“It’s good!” Merlin whispered in a rush. “Oh…it’s good.”

As if to prove this, he lifted himself up and fell back down, instantly reaching back again to clench the golden wheat hair. “More than good.”

Arthur littered kisses on Merlin’s nape, liking the tug on his hair and the squeeze of Merlin’s legs around him. He knew how deeply Merlin felt by these gestures. By caressing Merlin’s waist, Arthur encouraged him to set his own rhythm, but his hands did not stop there. As Merlin rolled his hips, Arthur’s fingertips found his nipples, stroked the contours of his torso, the slopes of his thighs, until finally settling on Merlin’s cock. The lube allowed him to twist from base to tip and back, causing Merlin’s face to turn into Arthur’s hair, breathing him in. When allowed to show his feelings, Merlin sought Arthur as direly as Arthur did, wanting him completely, and Arthur was too weak to deny him anything less.

Arthur was astounded how he could ever think of keeping Merlin a secret at all: the slightest tinge of danger toward him set Arthur off. He sought the merest touch, a handhold or a glance with Merlin; keeping their relationship a secret was doomed from the start. Arthur craved Merlin entirely, and he was proud of it. Merlin made him feel like a king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr has been giving me some grief today, since I shortened my URL to a more reasonable length, but I've updated it so you should still be able to reach it by the link below. If you have any issues, shoot me a comment :)


	26. Arthur's Bane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell, I'm SO SORRY for the wait! But I won't vent the stresses of college to you all. Read on and prosper!
> 
> Quick note: I mention "football" in this chapter but I mean it towards European football, ie soccer.

Arthur could hear Morgana moving about—mostly because she was an absolute horror when it came to laundry. He was sure she dropped the basket right outside of his room the first time out of clumsiness but the second and third were out of spite. She couldn’t merely smooth the fabric and fold it either, no, no: the _whip_ and _crack_ of fabric which he did not even know cotton and linen were capable of doing forced his eyes open, but at least there were pleasant things to wake up to…

Rolling over, Arthur began a trail of kisses on Merlin’s neck—only to have a palm intercept his mouth. Merlin pushed Arthur’s face away so he rolled once more onto his back. “I’m sore,” he announced tersely, not even bothering to open his eyes.

Removing his hand, Merlin showed every intention of resuming his nap in peace. Arthur blinked innocently while he processed this information. After what he considered a wonderful start to the morning, they had eaten breakfast, showered, and fallen back into bed to save consciousness for a more appropriate hour.

Now, however, he smirked and snuggled completely within Merlin’s personal space. “You can’t mean that it’s all _my_ fault?” he teased, nipping at Merlin’s earlobe.

“It is entirely your fault,” Merlin growled, giving a weak attempt at adjusting his position away from Arthur. “Everything aches.”

That gave Arthur pause. “Everything?”

“‘Athletic’ is not on my résumé,” Merlin stated, pulling the covers over him more and wincing at the twinge in his muscles.

Arthur laughed breathily and planted his elbow in the pillow to prop his head up. His fingers carded through Merlin’s hair while he considered their current reality. He never expected sex fatigue to hinder their bed sport but he could not say that he was surprised…or complaining. He’d initially feared he had deeply injured Merlin, but now he felt as if he’d surpassed his duties as a lover.

All of a sudden, Arthur was knocked off his arm as Merlin shot up in bed. “What day is it?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know. Sunday…Monday,” Arthur replied.

“Which is it?” Merlin panicked.

Frowning, Arthur reached for his phone and read, “Monday. What’s the matter?”

Merlin whipped the covers off the bed. By the time Arthur pulled them off his head Merlin was already in his jeans and struggling with his shirt. “I’m supposed to start working with _Avalon_ but I’m expecting a call—where’s my phone?”

Arthur glanced perplexedly at the dresser before rifling through the sheets to no avail. Merlin searched his pockets and the floor before he exclaimed, “Did I leave it at Gaius’s?”

Arthur had just managed to tie the drawstring of his pajamas when Merlin burst out of the room the same time Morgana was passing by with a fresh basket of laundry. She glanced over in surprise but instantaneously dropped the basket. “Merlin!” she tried to reach out for him but she missed and hissed at Arthur, “Don’t let him get downstairs!”

“What? Why?” Arthur demanded, although he had already broken into a sprint after his hectic boyfriend. Morgana followed on his heels and her reason became apparent when Merlin jarred to a halt midway down the stairs. Arthur had a split second to register the small sound of panic that escaped his throat before he barreled into Merlin’s backside. Arthur managed to catch him, but with Morgana behind them, the three of them collapsed over a couple more stairs before they were able to face the two sets of eyes staring at them from the living room.

“Mr. Emrys,” Uther acknowledged. Time seemed to slow as Arthur watched his father’s eyes transfer from Merlin to the arm around his torso, which was attached to Arthur. He knew his father understood immediately, but Arthur’s own gaze was torn to the figure beside him: his uncle Agravaine.

“What is he doing here?” Arthur all but growled. “What are _you_ doing here? You said you wouldn’t be back for days or weeks.”

Uther’s brows lifted in mild displeasure. “It’s been days, and I said it _might_ have been weeks. As for your uncle, he has every right to attend our house on my invitation. Come down from there so we might pretend to discuss this like civilized people.”

Arthur felt Merlin’s nails dig into his arm. He wanted nowhere near Agravaine, and Arthur agreed with the sentiment. Guiding him down the stairs, Arthur steered Merlin toward the front door—

“Stay a moment, Mr. Emrys,” Uther ordered. “We might as well discuss your involvement with my son while you’re here.”

“He has somewhere else to be,” Arthur countered, his hand on the doorknob.

Uther’s voice was steel. “After the hours I doted on his behalf, he can spare a few minutes.”

The doorknob creaked when Arthur’s grip clenched. Merlin’s hand overlapped his, easing his fist off the metal orb to hold his hand instead. Arthur steered his glare toward Agravaine. “Start with him.”

His uncle tranquilly shared a look with Uther but otherwise said nothing. The only notion of his unease was his aversion to looking in Merlin’s direction.

Uther explained, “Family is family, and he asked for my assistance in getting him a job.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Arthur murmured.

“He is your mother’s brother,” Uther reminded forcefully.

“She is in the ground,” Arthur snapped. “Her ashes were spread in the garden, in fact. Go speak with the calla lilies if you want her input.”

 _“Arthur,”_ Merlin breathed, barely more than a whisper.

The muscle in Arthur’s jaw ticked as his hold on Merlin tightened and his chest heaved for a calming breath. Uther observed this and uttered, “When did you think it appropriate to tell me about the two of you?”

Arthur swallowed. He did not have a ready answer for this. Part of him was ready to grab Merlin and run without ever saying a word; the other half of him wanted to shout it in his father’s ear and take whatever punishment came.

“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin answered for him, turning all eyes on him. Merlin faltered under their gaze but finished, “We’re together…does it matter when he told you?”

An acidic drop of shame rippled in Arthur’s stomach. Merlin wanted all of this cleared up days ago, for Arthur to just go ahead and _say it_ and let the pieces fall where they may, but now he was taking the brunt for him with Uther directly.

“I have every right to know what goes on in my house,” Uther warned measuredly.

“A house you’re rarely in,” Merlin pointed out. “You saw this coming months ago. You’re either going to accept us or you’re not.”

“Not to mention they’re consenting adults,” Morgana seconded. The corner of Agravaine’s mouth and one of his eyelids flinched but the focus remained on Uther.

“Do not place yourself amidst this,” Uther warned his daughter calmly, as if he already knew it was a lost cause but thought it gallant of him to do it all the same. Returning his attention to his son, he continued, “I cannot say Mr. Emrys is wrong. I’ve watched my children grow. I know who they are even if they think I ignore them. I expected you to handle this in a mature manner, Arthur. You should have discussed this with me long ago.”

A tortured grimace formed on Arthur’s face, as if he could not decipher if it was lemon juice or soda in his mouth, whether to be ashamed or resilient. “Discussed what? And how? You do not give the impression of welcoming my thoughts if they go against your own. Because of you I could not acknowledge what I felt, let alone approach you about it.”

“Because of me?” Uther repeated recalcitrantly. “I have only fought for what is best for you—”

Morgana snorted, but the velvety puff of air was enough to make Uther’s eyes flash. “Don’t be shy,” he uttered, far too serenely, like the ocean’s surface before a storm. “Speak your thoughts.”

“We both know ‘shy’ is not a word for my description,” Morgana countered. “Everyone’s thinking it—except maybe that fuck head behind you—” Agravaine scowled but Morgana ploughed on, “I’ll be the one to say it: you may believe what you do is just and fueled by good intentions, but you are a bad person. You read a situation correctly but somehow contort it into something vile inside your mind. These two people have already risked their lives for one another, yet you see their pairing as harmful, foolish, or downright useless.”

Uther’s features smoothed out, making him appear strikingly like a young man, a blend between his two children. He stood with Arthur’s stature and Morgana’s dark coloring as he said, “Adults you may be, but you can’t know how young you are…even I forget it most days. Would it shock you that I am only against this relationship because it _is_ harmful, foolish, and useless? But not for the reasons you believe. Young love is powerful, dangerously so, but the three of you have too few years to understand how such a thing, as strong as it is, is just as fleeting. While you are caught in its throes, you are a danger to yourselves and each other; this has already been made evident by the events on campus. It is foolish, because I daresay both of you are more intelligent than this. And it is useless, because afterward, however long it lasts, you will be broken memories of one another. Thoughts may lift emotions, like muscle memories of each other, but they will just as easily drift away.”

Arthur’s grip on Merlin eased, and his thumb drew lazy circles over Merlin’s hand. “You’re wrong,” he shook his head gently. “I loved Guinevere, and I thought I could for the rest of my days…but it was nothing like this. I was with her for two years and I never felt like _this.”_

“Arthur,” Uther spoke softly, in what was by far the most paternal voice Merlin had ever heard him use. “I know the addiction that love is. Even when it’s painful, you beg for it, and I had it, but it did not last.”

“There are different types of love,” Merlin cut in before his mind could catch his words.

“There is hardly a difference when you lose the one you love,” Uther rebuked.

“Morgana’s mother captured you, but Arthur’s mother broke you,” Merlin declared, and then the room became quiet enough to hear the dust motes dancing above their heads. For a brief moment, Merlin’s words tumbled in his own mind before his eyes widened, and he peeked up at Arthur’s puzzled frown.

“How did you…?”

Merlin’s eyelashes fluttered anxiously. “You told me…once. The first night we spent time together…I didn’t mean to bring it up—”

“Why _haven’t_ you brought it up before now?” Arthur interrogated. “Why didn’t you tell me I…told you this?”

Merlin berated himself inwardly. There were only so many ways he and Arthur could have this conversation without revealing to Uther that his son had gotten roofied at a club. There needed to be some semblance of damage control, or else too many tempers would flare in too small a room…and in a cavernous space like the Pendragon lair, this was quite a feat.

“I didn’t think it was important,” Merlin insisted, “…until now. I haven’t told anyone—”

“Well thank heavens for that,” Uther snapped.

“It’s not your secret to tell,” Arthur agreed, but Merlin could not tell with whom he was agreeing. Merlin’s head physically shook, trying to clear his mind and peer between father and son, doing his utmost to convince himself that Uther and Arthur were not teaming up against him.

“Um,” Morgana intervened pointedly. “If it’s anyone’s secret, it’s _mine,_ and since this is the circle of discomfort, we might as well linger on the point Merlin’s justly made. Obviously whatever happened with my mother was powerful enough to induce you to disloyalty to Ygraine, but you willingly left her. Ygraine was taken from you, and the evidence of the emptiness inside you is apparent all over this house. It’s been over a decade, and we’re just now returning pictures— _pictures_ —to the walls. The break between Gwen and Arthur was relatively clean…”

She ignored the glares from both Arthur and Merlin. “…but Arthur nearly lost Merlin twice; the first time he pulled his head out of his ass in order to help Merlin to the hospital, and the second he could have been thrown into prison because of it. Honestly, only a fool would try to separate them again.”

Merlin instinctively leaned in to press his mouth to Arthur’s shoulder, but steely muscle pressed against his lips, and he retracted his head. Uther spoke next, but it took a few seconds for his words to register inside his mind: “Mr. Emrys, I think you’ve devoted enough time here today. You have somewhere else to be?”

It was when Arthur reaffirmed this that Merlin’s mind reeled backwards, malfunctioning against the words, “He’s right. You should go.”

What did that mean? Nothing had been accomplished, had it? Why was he suddenly being booted from the house? Had he said too much? He glanced between Morgana and Arthur, wondering if perhaps this was simply the first phase of the discussion and he was not invited to the second half. Morgana’s eyes reflected this somewhat, but Arthur’s blue irises were ice when he met Merlin’s gaze. “Get out,” he murmured.

His voice was soft, but it struck Merlin like a sledgehammer. He knew Arthur’s skill with words left the city completely in times of stress, but he would have thought Arthur would have a bit more tact than _Get out._ A simple _Go_ would have sufficed far better than the crude _Get out._ Yet, Merlin’s lungs were empty of words, equally insufficient. His body moved quicker than his mind pedaled, pivoting his torso while his legs worked across the floor. His hand held the brass knob, chilled by the air conditioning of the house. Merlin hesitated, wanting to glance back, just for a glimpse of Arthur or Morgana silently telling him to stay, or that it will be all right, that we’ll see you again soon…

But the chill rippled up his spine to his nape, shuddering his breath and the knob rotated with a jerk in his grasp. He plunged into the heat of the day, shutting the door behind him. Even with the walls of the house barricading him from the ice within, Merlin cursed himself for not grabbing his scarf in his haste. He squirmed as he marched to Gaius’s house, rubbing his neck with cold fingers, pulling up his shirt and jacket to cover his scars and the harsh, unwanted tingles scraping over his skin.

 _Don’t be stupid,_ he chided himself. _It’s Arthur. He has things to work out. That’s all._ But his mind was sliding back toward a dank, familiar place. It was the fault of Agravaine, he knew, but this did not hinder Merlin’s inability to crush gravity and rise back toward the sun. The sight of his almost-rapist had thrown Merlin entirely, and coupled with the jarring eviction from the house as well as the unknown ahead… _fucking hell, where is my phone?_

Gaius was out of the house, but Merlin huffed something like relief at the sight of his mobile connected to the socket via charger. There were no missed calls, but Merlin did not want to wait, so he made the call instead.

“This must mean something very good or very bad,” Balinor greeted on the second ring.

Merlin’s lips parted, but no words came out. Balinor continued in his stead, “Although, I do feel honored that I’m the S.O.S. recipient. What can I do, son?”

Merlin’s eyelids shut heavily. “I’m being selfish,” he muttered, because it was how he felt. Just the baritone of his father, mixed with the lilt of laughter which came so easily to him made Merlin’s turbulent waters lie still.

“I like selfish,” Balinor commended. “Especially when it includes me. Tell me what’s wrong, Merlin.”

So he did. “Arthur’s father knows about us…but the conversation took a strange route. I was told to leave before any sort of outcome could be seen.”

“Mmm…” Balinor pondered. “You sound like something a bit more specific is bothering you.”

Merlin swallowed thickly. “It just…it just felt as if Arthur wasn’t on my side…it was only a second, and I doubt Arthur meant to do it, but…my reaction is stupid. I shouldn’t feel this way. Arthur doesn’t flip like a coin, but I’m still worried.”

There was a pause as if Balinor was nodding on the other end. “In the heat of the moment, signals get transmitted incorrectly and misunderstood. As aggravating as it is, the only way to clear the air is to wait for Arthur’s emotions to simmer down and then resume the subject. In the meantime, I’ll distract you. I got the iconography you made—splendid, as usual.”

“Thanks,” Merlin grumbled, although his heart perked up, as if seeing if the coast was clear to resume its place between Merlin’s ribs. “The coloring was okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Balinor wondered. “It grabs the attention, it’s easy on the eyes, it all works. I’ve got a couple prints folded in my pocket here, as a matter of fact…”

Merlin could hear the crunching of paper as well as the chatter of children in the background, but it was a language Merlin did not know. “Where are you?”

“Oh!” Balinor chimed. “Beautiful place! On the other side of the world, but worth the twenty hour flight, I promise. I’m overseeing the school production. It’s recess right now, and let me tell you: it is not reassuring when twelve year olds whoop you in football. I was varsity once upon a time, I’ll have you know.”

Merlin collapsed onto the couch while he listened to how his father nearly twisted his ankle and how the only problems were baboons creeping into the schools’ kitchens. A break in the conversation allowed Merlin to ask, “Could I start my training there?”

“You sure? It’s like being under Lucifer’s scrotum…and I mean that in regards to the heat and the humidity.”

“That’s…descriptive,” Merlin mumbled through a grimace, “but I want to work in the field eventually, and starting there would prepare me for a career in travel.”

Balinor’s tone dropped. “Have you spoken with Arthur about these plans? Take it from someone who calls the world home, most people prefer a single location.”

“Erm…at the moment I don’t think Arthur has anything to say, but he didn’t seem to mind when I mentioned it. He actually voiced wanting to come along, but I think it would be nice to get out of town since filming with Gwaine is finished.”

“He might need you to stay,” Balinor countered mildly, “for moral support.”

“I didn’t mean to leave right away,” Merlin stated, and then hesitated, “wait, how quickly could I be there?”

His father audibly sighed while he calculated this. “I’d want you on my own jet, but it’s here with me. I could have it at your airport tomorrow, say in the evening? It would just need an hour to cool down and refuel.”

Merlin did not respond immediately. “I’ll need to get back to you. As little as I know, everything on Arthur’s end could be resolved in the hour or stretch for months.”

“It’s not like there is a rush,” Balinor pointed out, “although it is true that you were meant to start working by the end of this week… How’s this: I’ll send the jet to you and you hop on whenever things settle on your end.”

“Dad, that’s hardly professional. Aren’t we supposed to have deadlines?”

“I’m staring a baboon in the eye right now. He wants my M&M’s. Things become more lenient when the CEO spends his sparse hours like this. Just don’t forget to bring scones!”

The call unceremoniously ended with a clatter, suggesting that Balinor had to choose between handling his candy or his phone in that moment. Merlin stared at the ceiling from his viewpoint on Gaius’s floral couch and pondered for a long time before he made himself something to eat and messaged Morgana. It was another hour before she replied, but when she did, it was with a curt order to come over through the garden.

The afternoon light over the blossoms made their colors appear more vivid, even harsh to the eye. The wood grain of the gate pressed into Merlin’s fingers as he lifted the latch and found Morgana waiting for him right by the fountain. A bucket near its edge contained a sponge and sudsy water, but she stood immobile next to it, not having started cleaning yet. Merlin was not sure if this boded well or not.

He slipped next to her and remained quiet, deciding how best to ease her from her thoughts. For a while he joined her in staring at the fountain’s tiles, examining the painted and glazed designs of another world… Merlin inhaled loudly but asked softly, “How are things?”

The corner of Morgana’s smile lifted, indicating she was either aware of him the entire time or not at all surprised. She did not answer directly, instead apologizing, “It was cruel of me to invite you back here.”

Merlin decided to not assume anything by that statement and asked, “Why?”

She exhaled slowly while turning her frame; even though the bend in the path and walls of flora guarded her view, he knew she was glancing back at the house. “They’re still at it,” she explained. “Not long after you, I got evicted from the room. So Arthur’s a chatter box when he’s crooked on his feet?”

The lighthearted inquiry caught Merlin off guard. “Um…well it was hardly his fault. He didn’t mean to tell me about you or your mother—”

Morgana shook her head, waving the matter away. “That doesn’t bother me at all. It’s not like I didn’t know myself. I should also apologize on Arthur’s behalf. He’s horrendous when it comes to speaking nicely under stressed conditions. It’s a wonder how good he is at speechmaking… Agravaine is gone by the way. I made sure to kick him out of the house before I left the conversation.”

Merlin shifted his weight, gently rocking from his heels to his toes. “Thanks…what were they talking about when you left?”

The way Morgana blinked and shook her head suggested her mind was heavy from the day. “Honestly, it’s hard to say. One moment they argued over the truth of Arthur’s feelings, and the next was over something in an e-mail Uther sent him…”

Her ebony waves swayed as she shook her head again. “Arthur somehow managed to inherit all of Uther’s gifts and avoid his flaws, but this still means they’re far too alike to work through a conversation with each other. This will take a while.”

Merlin offered a chuckle. “I sort of expected that. What should I expect by the end of it? What exactly is the argument Uther has against me?”

Morgana huffed a laugh. “Good question! Dare I say it, I think he was sincere when he said his concern had nothing to do with your sexual orientations… If he stands by the point of your relationship being destructive, he will only push Arthur away. If you couldn’t tell, my brother has a fondness for you.”

Merlin snorted gently in his throat. “A healthy obsession might be more accurate.”

She chortled. “Normally I’d say obsession isn’t love, but I think it works the other way this time. Why shouldn’t you be obsessed with the person you love? I mean, as long as you’re not a stalker to your own partner. You bring out the best in Arthur, you really do…and I like this forward version of you.” She peeked at him keenly. “You were so bloody shy when I first met you.”

Merlin let his head lull backward, taking the brunt of her sass before he asked a different question: “What is something Uther could say to change Arthur’s mind?”

Morgana frowned contemplatively. “I don’t think he could say anything to magically make Arthur stop loving you…but if he were to plant a seed to distract him from you…it would be something to do with his mother. Those wounds run deep…or that somehow you would be better off without Arthur. ”

She glanced at Merlin to observe how he processed this. “But Arthur knows that’s not true,” he said weakly.

Morgana beamed. “Then you haven’t anything to worry about, do you?”

A moment passed of tranquil silence before he wondered, “Why _did_ you invite me over here?”

Morgana chortled guiltily. “To help me clean…to keep me company. Arthur isn’t the only one who can be selfish. You’re my friend too.”

Merlin guffawed. “All right then.”

Shrugging out of his jacket, he grabbed a sponge from the bucket and set to work. After he and Morgana cleaned the fountain, pumped the pipes and cleaned it again of debris, she brought out snacks for them to eat as dinner while they tended the garden. It largely consisted of mixing fresh compost with the old to chemically trick pests to stay out of the garden, as well as switching some of the flowers for lavender, basil, and garlic for natural repellant.

They worked well through the evening and into the night, using solar powered lanterns for light. Around eleven p.m. Morgana poked her head inside to gauge the status of the argument and waved Merlin inside. “They’re still talking but the volume is considerably lower.”

So they played cards in the sunroom—with Merlin willing his raspberry blush away so Morgana suspected nothing—and debated over Tumblr versus Pinterest until the early hours of the morning, when Morgana fell asleep against his shoulder while he scrolled through his game apps. Eventually his phone lowered to his thigh and he leaned into her but did not sleep. Every now and then he could hear the baritone vibrations of voices through the walls but he could not make out any words. His gaze wandered around the room until it settled on the windows, watching how the colors of the flowers changed with the hours of the night. It was fascinating how the night was not black, but blue, causing an entirely new color palette to grow in the garden…

“Merlin?”

His head lifted off Morgana’s suddenly and he turned dazed eyes on Arthur standing in the doorway. “Have you been awake here all night?”

Merlin carefully eased Morgana’s head off his shoulder and rolled the stiffness from his arm as he stood to meet Arthur. “I couldn’t sleep…I didn’t want to if you were…”

He was not sure how to finish the sentence, so he let his words fade. Arthur nodded his understanding and closed the distance between them. Entwining his arms around Merlin’s waist, he let his head fall onto Merlin’s shoulder. He could feel Arthur’s stress ease with each breath, relishing the simple experience of someone supporting his weight. Merlin put his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, drawing circles with his nails across the shoulder blades.

“What did he say?”

Arthur’s torso expanded with his inhalation and deflated slowly as he thought of how to respond. “Plenty of negative things I won’t transfer to you.”

“I told you I don’t want you facing him alone,” he reminded. Merlin shifted his weight, and it commenced a lazy sway between them. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but the dance lasted between them, rocking pleasantly. “What did he say?”

Arthur inhaled again, this time turning his head to breath in Merlin’s scent of his shirt and neck. His arms tightened slightly as he smelled the labors of soil, lavender, and Merlin’s sweat there. “He said it was admirable of you to trust me. After everything that’s happened…well, you weren’t wrong when you feared how I had the ability to ruin your reputation. But he said you attract too much trouble; how some people are best left alone or their catastrophes have collateral damage…how he fears for my safety and reputation because my mother was one of these people.”

Merlin sighed. “He isn’t wrong…please tell me you created a convincing counter argument.”

Arthur chuckled. “I told him I loved you and he could go to hell a few times.”

“I’m serious,” Merlin whined quietly.

One of Arthur’s hands had lifted to massage designs into Merlin’s nape and shoulder, softening the tight muscle from anxiety and Morgana’s heavy skull. “I turned his statement of Mom being a collateral casualty into being one of the people of catastrophes. There is evil in this world, and those brave enough to fight it can’t help but get caught in destruction. We’re the ones who got dragged under it all, but my mother did a lot of good while she was alive. She was a pistol. I remember her telling me how hers and my father’s first date was to a concert where the stage collapsed and the lights sparked from a circuit breaker malfunctioning.”

Merlin laughed softly. “Our first date was boring in comparison.”

“Exactly,” Arthur agreed, lifting his head to meet Merlin’s smile. “How was your phone call?”

“Oh—um, good,” Merlin stammered, having completely forgotten about it. Arthur frowned and waited expectantly for more. “Well, my dad’s sent his plane for me…I can leave whenever, but it will be here this evening.”

Merlin’s heart sank at the same rate as Arthur’s expression. “So soon?”

“I explained the situation to him,” Merlin reiterated. “He told me to board it when I’m ready.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched into a smile but it did not reach his eyes. “You mean when I’m ready. You’re ready now.”

Merlin swallowed and admitted, “With any other boss I wouldn’t be able to do this but my dad is understanding and pulling strings for me. I think he feels guilty for leaving my mother to raise me and he doesn’t want me to make the same mistake with you.”

Arthur shook his head without missing a beat. “You told me you wanted to travel. It would be unfair of me to hold you back. Hell, _Avalon_ accepted me for an internship, they might accept me for a job. The only thing holding me down is this last semester of school. You should go, Merlin.”

His heart lifted but not fully. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, or if when I come back it will be to this city.”

This time Arthur smiled more easily. “This is a quest you need to do. Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch up sooner than you think.”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t you using my work as an excuse to go along with Uther’s advice, is it?”

Arthur’s eyes rolled. “You do realize if you weren’t sex-sore and if Morgana wasn’t sleeping right there I would take you on that window seat again, right?

“WOAH, what?” Morgana shot to her feet, not asleep at all. She whirled around, examining the cushions and shooting a glare across the room. “How many surfaces have you two been on?”

“The point is,” Arthur ignored her, “have some faith in me. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Merlin replied.

“Same. You can cook us breakfast while you tell me about your first trip.”

He hooked his arm around Merlin’s neck, steering him to the kitchen while the latter complained, “Why do I have to cook when you’ve finally managed to learn how not to burn the kitchen down?”

“Whoever the hell is cooking better wash their hands before you touch anything!” Morgana ordered behind them.

After doing as she bid, it became the three of them creating breakfast with the only pause being the sound of Uther leaving through the front door. For a while after that no one said anything, but conversation picked back up and the Pendragon siblings took it upon themselves to help Merlin pack.

“I really don’t think either of you are qualified for this,” Merlin refuted to their suggestions.

“Merlin, hot places tend to have cold nights,” Arthur urged, handing him a pair of cashmere sweaters from his own collection.

“You and your cashmere! I’ll take _one,”_ he declared pointedly, whipping one of the garments he was sure he would never wear into his bag.

“And you should really bring cleansing wipes,” Morgana seconded, but the assortment of wipes, soaps, lotions, and general medicines she dumped into his bag made Merlin shake his head.

“I’m not taking a personal pharmacy,” he stated firmly.

Several hours later, they returned to the Pendragon house for an early dinner, and Morgana was not at all surprised when Arthur tugged Merlin by the hand to disappear upstairs. As soon as Arthur’s door locked behind them, though, he gathered Merlin in his arms for a hug that lasted several minutes. He wanted to feel Merlin’s heart beating against his chest, his ribs expanding between his arms and feel velvet breath against his neck.

“Oh Christ,” he realized abruptly, causing Merlin’s head to lift. “I’m going to need the electric sheet now.”

Merlin guffawed but quickly became serious for what he said next: “I’m too sore to bottom tonight, but…if you wanted…I could—”

Arthur cut him off with a rough kiss, capturing his mouth hungrily. “Anything…” he murmured between kisses. “…Do anything that will make me forget how cold my bed is about to be.”

His lips descended to Merlin’s neck, which willingly arched back to give him more space to lick, kiss, and nibble until Merlin grabbed his face and brought his lips back for a greedy kiss. It was sloppy, all lips and tongue, but Arthur gripped Merlin’s ass and carried him to the bed while Merlin’s fingers wandered beneath his shirt. Arthur helped him get rid of the garment, but when he bent over Merlin on the bed, gravity rotated as Merlin rolled to straddle him.

“Don’t move,” he ordered huskily. Arthur obliged, only lifting his hips to aid in Merlin’s removing of his jeans.

“Yours nex—” he tried to say, but Merlin’s fingertips reached up to cover his lips.

“Stop talking,” Merlin murmured against his abdomen, littering kisses across his beautiful torso. “Let me look at you.”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed as his cock twitched inside his underwear. “Hahh,” he exhaled when Merlin’s teeth bite the tender flesh right above the waistband. And then all the blood rushed downward as Merlin’s hot breath seeped through the fabric onto his cock and balls. The texture of the fibers coupled with his tongue probing through the garment had Arthur’s fists clenching the bedding. It was astonishing how quickly Merlin found all of his spots: he tantalized the underside of his penis and massaged the individual sides of his scrotum with his lips and tongue that made Arthur sink into the bed.

Then he yanked the underwear off so quickly the cool draft made Arthur gasp. His thick length flopped free onto his lower abdomen, red in the places Merlin’s teeth had worried. The bottle of lube and a condom dropped beside Arthur’s hip as Merlin crawled back onto the bed. On his knees, he stood over Arthur and removed his shirt, tossing it to the floor. He quickly opened his trousers to ease the tension on his own erection before taking the lubricant in hand. His glazed, hooded eyes roamed over Arthur as he poured fluid over his hands, slicking them both. When his gaze met his beloved’s, Arthur's knees opened for him.

With one hand, Merlin touched his entrance with the pads of his fingers, but they merely rested there while his other hand curled a finger around the base of Arthur’s penis. Between his forefinger and thumb, Merlin created a ring around him, and slowly pulled it upward. He did this a few more times, and it felt good, but Arthur’s head fell back when he finally teased the now oversensitive tip with his fingertips, dusting over his urethra budding with precum.

Arthur’s gasp morphed into a moan when Merlin’s tongue took the place of his fingers, lavishing his head and lapping up the milky fluid. Arthur realized his thumb was already circling over his hole, easing the muscle guarding his entrance. He flinched when a pinkie slipped inside, but it was more of a curious sensation than painful. Arthur felt himself relaxing, wanting to be ready for more.

Merlin’s hand slicked his entire length while he worked Arthur open, pumping on the outside in rhythm with the inside. He dribbled a few extra drops of lubricant onto his hand before inserting a larger finger, and he began the curling motion he had told Arthur of during their first night together. Arthur’s hips squirmed somewhat, but Merlin had not found the right spot yet. He may have rushed to his longest finger because of this, but Arthur’s reaction when Merlin tickled his prostate was comical and sexy.

“Oh!” he piped, eyes wide, but as Merlin massaged deeply, pressing harder, Arthur’s eyelids immediately drooped in ecstasy. “Oh fuck…you could do that all night.”

Merlin’s cheeky smile beamed. “Next time, handsome. You’re doing so well. Just a bit more…”

“Maybe if you lost the pants I’d have more of an incentive,” Arthur jibed, eyeing the bulge between the open flaps of Merlin’s jeans.

“Don’t rush me,” he warned. “I’m at my limit already. You don’t know how sexy you are spread for me.”

Arthur cock bobbed with his pulse while a languid smile curved his lips. “I can imagine from experience.”

Merlin’s eyes flicked up to meet his, soft but full of lust and love. Arthur inhaled deeply as a second finger joined the first, breathing through the tension. Merlin carefully stroked his walls and prostate to relax him before a third finger eased inside. Arthur felt stretched to his limit, and Merlin must have seen this in his expression because he ducked down to all but swallow his penis. He hummed as Arthur’s ass squeezed his fingers, his voice sending shivers through Arthur’s legs and shuddering his breath.

“Merlin…aahhh, please fuck me soon.”

He reared back onto his knees to shove his clothes down to mid thigh. Arthur licked his lips at the sight of Merlin’s ruddy cock and the soft blue veins ribbed under the skin. It was a shame to cover it with the condom, but Arthur knew they weren’t ready to go without, and his attention was quickly diverted to Merlin’s tip stretching and pressing into his hole.

They both inhaled deeply when his head was all the way in, but Merlin watched Arthur closely as he slowly urged his pelvis forward, taking his time. “Are you in pain?” he asked warily.

Arthur’s eyes shut, shaking his head as if the sensation as too much for verbal words. “Keep going. I want all of you.”

Merlin crawled over top of Arthur as he pushed in to the hilt. His soft tresses pressed against Arthur sternum as he took a moment to catch his breath. Arthur’s hand was rising to smooth his locks off his face, but Merlin surprised him but gripping the backs of his knees and lifting his thighs toward his chest. His moan stammered from his throat while Arthur cursed, “Ah! Hell…that’s tight…”

“You have no idea,” Merlin laughed raggedly.

“Ummph…” Arthur sighed as one of Merlin’s adjustments rubbed against his prostate nicely. “I’m throwing your feet over your head next time.”

His jaw dropped when Merlin pulsed a little bigger inside him, excited by the prospect. He took his time pulling out for the first thrust, and Arthur’s breath hissed through his teeth as their pace began. It was far better than he ever expected. Merlin poured extra drops to make their movements easy and fluid, but he was intensely attentive, slowing when Arthur winced during a faster thrust and pumping his cock when he grew restless. Arthur’s gaze drank in Merlin above him, how his slim biceps and pectorals strained while holding his legs up, but Merlin never seemed to tire. Sweat speckled his brow and cheeks, his swollen lips and rosy cheeks contrasting with his long blinks as he willed himself to last longer than he wanted.

And then he switched to rolling his hips, creating a thrusting motion that simultaneously grinded against the prostate every time. Arthur was weak to his orgasm as it smashed into him. His hands desperately reached for Merlin, for any part of him. Merlin let one of his legs fall across the bed so his free hand could interlace with Arthur’s.

“Ah! Ha-hahh…” Merlin shuddered, squeezing Arthur’s palm as his hips rolled of their own accord, claiming his orgasm desperately.

His head bowed before he slowly eased himself down to lie in Arthur’s embrace. His cheek pressed just over his heart and he rose and fell with Arthur’s breathing. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Merlin’s lashes fluttered shut when Arthur’s fingertips brushed past his temple, stroking his sweaty tresses off his face. “Nothing I can’t handle. I’ll still feel you tomorrow.”

Merlin huffed a laugh, only slightly sorry to give Arthur a taste of his own delicious torment. He snorted against Arthur’s chest when his boyfriend muttered, “You’re sexy with half your clothes on during sex.”

“I still say we should have bathroom sex so I can stare at your backside.”

Arthur’s guffaw boomed in his chest, but Merlin liked the sound, loud as it was. He lifted his head to rest his chin on Arthur’s breastbone and watch the brilliant smile play across Arthur’s face. “I love you, you know.”

The blue eyes found his and Arthur rolled onto his side, holding Merlin close. “Yeah, I know, but don’t forget how much I love you back.”

Merlin giggled huskily when a kiss was pressed to his nose. They lay like that until the last minute, and then Arthur took him to the airport, parking right on the tarmac. His worries were mildly reassured by the _Avalon_ jet being the same model as his own; at least the safety features were guaranteed.

“Fuck, I didn’t even think…” he blurted, causing Merlin to peer at him once his luggage was handed to a steward. “Is your phone international?”

“If it isn’t, I think my dad will understand a few pricy phone bills. I’ll call you when I get there, baby. Mind, I’ve been warned it’s a twenty hour flight.”

Arthur knew Merlin was teasing him with the endearment, but his heart swelled when it entered his ears. “See that you do, or I might have to crash your job the same way I did your internship.”

Merlin guffawed, pleasantly surprised he was able to look back on that month—which had ended so badly—with a jovial outlook. “I’ll get some sort of itinerary to you as soon as I can. Kiss me, boyfriend, since you demand goodbye kisses.”

“Damn right,” Arthur growled, earning a yelp from Merlin when he dipped him low to the ground for an equally plunging kiss. Merlin hummed musically when he swooped up, placed once more on his feet. His eyes were glazed from Arthur’s ravishment, but the steward standing awkwardly by the stairs couldn’t be ignored any longer. “I love you,” Arthur whispered again.

Merlin beamed the way that made Arthur’s insides feel like butterflies and gooey sugar at the same time. “I love you too,” he returned, and Arthur knew he meant it with every drop of blood in his heart.

Merlin waved when he reached the top of the stairs, and Arthur waved until the plane was in the air, as nothing but an invisible black speck.

Arthur’s keys jingled noisily against the bowl when he returned home. His stride was reaching for the stairs when his father’s voice caught him unaware. “Where were you?”

“Dropping Merlin off at the airport,” Arthur replied curtly. “He’s going to be working abroad for a while.”

Arthur’s eyes roamed over the lit candle on the coffee table and the glass of wine in his father’s hand. It was rare to see Uther unwinding. “Is that so? Where?”

His son pivoted his body to face him properly with a puzzled expression. “You…really want to know? Why?”

Uther sighed, “Well as you put it so eloquently yesterday, you love him and I can go to hell. I figured I might as well be civil while it lasts. Are you going to tell me about your partner’s work or aren’t you?”

Arthur thought about it and took a seat adjacent to his father, accepting the glass from him for a few sips. He relayed all the details—minus the identity of Merlin’s father since he knew that was still confidential information. Uther was in the process of taking a sip when the glass slammed on the coffee table surface. Arthur instantly paused his story, fearing the stem would shatter, but his gaze quickly lifted to his father earnestly leaning toward him.

“He is where?”

For a second, Arthur did not understand. He repeated the location, more for his own ears to hear it and verify that it couldn’t be misheard as someplace else…

“Arthur, that’s where Ygraine was killed. That place has only been considered ‘safe’ for six years—hardly long enough for any real safety to be guaranteed. Just last month there was a bombing in a hospital…it’s precarious at best.”

Arthur felt his world tip on its side, but not in a good way. “Last month?”

Uther nodded once. “The terrain is ideal for guerrilla war groups. The government and charity organizations have overrun them for the most part, but the guerrillas’ small victories usually reap a large death count. Has he already left?”

“Yes,” Arthur rasped, but he was already up and grabbing his car keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aahhh...feels good to upload again. Only two more chapters after this! *sniffles* I don't want it to end...but I have a surprise waiting for you at the end of it all ;)
> 
> Not sure when the next update will be, but I won't let school crush me, I promise.


	27. Diamond Day ~ Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god, I wanted to get this to you all like four weeks ago, but WHO CARES BECAUSE THIS FIC HAS FAN ART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL--> [CLICK IT CLICK IT CLICK IT!!!!!!!!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5163416)

“Jesus fucking christ, answer your phone,” Arthur growled to empty air. He tore the mobile from his ear and redialed, only to listen to endless dial tones before an unemotional voice apologized for not being able to reach this number. It did not help that _all_ of their pilots had taken a series of days off which overlapped each other, but Arthur had researched the area Merlin had flown to, and the news was less than fare.

For the most part, thanks to governmental take overs and massive charity organizations like _Avalon,_ the minute country was able to reestablish something resembling order and all the benefits that came with it: clean drinking water, hospitals, schools, as well as tourist attractions like outdoor bazaars and caravans through the western desert or eastern tropical forests. The downside to all of this was that it was an uphill struggle, and one out of every three facilities constructed was attacked in some form or fashion within two years of its existence. Arthur wondered if the notorious heat of the place had gone to Balinor’s head to let Merlin fly there or if he was just that confident in _Avalon_ ’s mission to think otherwise.

And to ice the cake: Merlin’s phone was not working.

“The idiot probably forgot his charger…or an adapter,” Arthur mused angrily, pressing the corner of his phone to his forehead and pacing the kitchen. “ARGH! Goddamn it! Doesn’t anyone else there have a fucking phone?”

“If you shout a little louder, you won’t need a cellphone,” Lancel quipped dryly from his position on the counter. His legs dangled over the edge while he ate a chocolate bar; he licked his fingertip when it lingered on the chocolate too long. He had come over when Arthur returned from the airport since he was not able to board a plane himself. Lancel was kind enough to stay the night, distracting Arthur and keeping his anxiety at bay. He had managed to keep Arthur occupied for six hours with Google Maps researching the area _Avalon_ was working in; he wouldn’t be surprised if Arthur had the whole country memorized by now.

Suddenly Arthur’s phone rang. “It’s about fucking time!” he answered before his expression immediately fell. “Oh, it’s you, George…Friday? Is that really the earliest you can be here?”

Lancel finished his snack while Arthur listened. “Fine, be ready to leave when I get there.”

Stuffing the mobile into his pocket, he messily raked his hair as he relayed, “At least _one_ of my pilots has the decency to return to work.”

Lancel slid off the counter to throw his wrapper away. “Is it the best idea to go yourself? Why don’t you have someone go and see what’s happened?”

“Are you volunteering?” Arthur challenged.

“Can’t. I already booked a ticket to visit Gwen’s folks. She’d have my head if I bailed.”

Arthur tipped his head to the side, understanding the catch he was in. Thinking of the brief periods he spent with Guinevere and her parents brought Arthur’s thoughts to dinner with Merlin, Balinor, and Hunith after the a cappella tournament…back to Merlin hold his hand beneath the restaurant table like he was afraid Arthur would float away any second.

Arthur ground the corner of his phone against his forehead as he paced the kitchen. Would he have been an awful boyfriend if he’d just told Merlin to stay? Stay until I’ve graduated. Stay until I can go with you.

He tried calling several more times over the course of the day to no avail. Lancel had to leave in order to pack and travel, thus inspiring Arthur to pack his own bag two days early. For once in his life he only packed the barest essentials before Morgana stormed into his room, thrust a pair of trainers into his hands and dragging him outside for an evening run. She had cunningly invited Gwaine along, who was deceptively fit for never exercising on purpose a day in his life, but his banter numbed Arthur’s head for the betterment of three hours. It was a bittersweet relief to fall in to his bed and smell Merlin on the pillows. Something tickled his toes, and Arthur dived to the foot of the bed to find the long, white dragon pillow they had kicked beneath the covers at some point. Arthur was surprised the next morning by how quickly he’d fallen asleep with the dragon clutched to his chest.

But his phone reaped no missed calls nor messages. “Put that fucking thing down,” his sister warned over breakfast.

“Your boyfriend isn’t the one possibly getting blown up,” Arthur grumbled, slumped as he was over his forearms on the island counter.

“Who says yours is?” she argued. “ _Avalon_ probably has crazy security measures in place for their facilities. I would wager that you get there and Merlin laughs in your face for being the prat that you are.”

“I wouldn’t bet against you for that one,” he said hopefully.

“So when are you getting married?”

Arthur’s glare cut across the countertop. “Morgana. We haven’t been dating a year.”

“Is that your attempt at making a point?” she sassed around a stick of celery and Nutella.

Arthur sighed heavily. “I know you’re trying to distract me but this isn’t the way to do it.”

“I’m being serious,” she encouraged, leaning over the counter so they were closer. “How would you do it? Should I ask Merlin next time I see him for ideas?”

Despite himself, laughter bubbled up Arthur’s throat. “I think I know him well enough to figure something out.”

Morgana fixed him with a comically dubious look, to which Arthur countered, “And if you ask Merlin about marriage you might send him away screaming. Keep a lid on it, all right?”

“Aw, what makes you think he’d be running _away_?” she asked, swiping a carrot through the chocolate spread. “I think marriage would suit Merlin if you were the one sharing it with him.”

Arthur trailed a hand through his golden hair. “Again, let me get my boyfriend back before I even consider making him my fiancé.”

Morgana held up a celery stalk in declaration, “Dibs on decorating your engagement party. Gwen can suck my tart.”

“Don’t let Lancel hear you say that,” Arthur warned. “I’m not sure he’s past you getting to Gwen before him.”

She lifted aqua to his. “Are you past me getting to her while she was yours?”

Arthur’s stubbly chin settled in his palm. “Just answer me this: was I in the house when it happened?”

Morgana blinked and guffawed at the ceiling. “Good god, no! We were in her dorm. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a conniving twat but I’m not cruel. It was your first night with Merlin…well, a drugged version of you’s first night with Merlin.”

Arthur snorted, incredulous at how they easily discussed his ex cheating with his sister. “Well at least we both had good company.”

Morgana laughed gleefully. “Even if the club didn’t live up to its name.”

A few hours later Arthur supposed he only managed a couple hours of sleep, anxious as he was to board the plane the following morning. Parking outside of the hangar, he jogged up the stairs into the craft and threw himself into a chair. It may have been his no nonsense demeanor or the fact that he cursed after every failed call to Merlin, but he heard a _pop!_ a moment before the steward set an open bottle of champagne in front of him. No glasses, just the bottle.

Arthur was coming to the conclusion that it might actually be a good idea to get drunk on a twenty-hour flight when the door suddenly opened, and Uther stepped onto the plane. Arthur stood and wondered, “Father? What are you doing here?”

The lines of Uther’s face were cut sharply as he glared at him. “If you think for one moment I’ll let my only son fly into a guerrilla war zone, I would do better to let Morgana duel you at sword play. Maybe the beating would knock a dose of sense into you.”

He took the seat opposite Arthur’s, the latter of whom slowly descended back onto his chair. “You’re coming with me?”

Uther tipped the champagne bottle to read the label and gestured to the steward to bring another. “It’s going to be a long flight. Don’t eat all the roast beef sandwiches and we won’t have any problems.”

A smirk curved the side of Arthur’s mouth as he felt the plane begin to roll out of the hangar.

But nothing could have prepared Arthur for the _heat_ that awaited him the next day upon landing. He and his father were rubbing the sleep from their eyes when the door opened and sweltering humidity simultaneously slapped them in the face and wrapped around them like a snake’s coils.

“ _Haaiih…_ ” Arthur exhaled raggedly, all but tearing off his jacket and wondering if there were shorts he could change into on the plane. As an innately hot-blooded individual, this was just shy of hell on earth.

Doggedly climbing down the stairs, though, he looked around him at the emerald green palms and the earth rich with volcanic soil and the airport workers bustling about in brightly colored linens draping their figures. “How can it be so beautiful here but so fucking hot?”

“It’s best not to speak English too loudly,” Uther advised. His mobile was out and already pressed to his ear. “It’s hard to say what areas are safe for foreigners—”

He switched to a different language to arrange what Arthur guessed were hotel reservations, but he zoned out in preference of buying a turban cloth at the nearest vendor outside of the airport. There were dangly sequins along the hem, making him think too late that it was actually a woman’s scarf, but it was purchased and already shielding his cranium from the angry ball of fire in the sky. It was further confirmed that he wore a scarf around his neck and head as they made their way through the city, where people preferred straw hats or even ball caps to block the sun’s rays.

“Where is _Avalon_ working?” he asked as Uther led the way into an extravagant hotel lobby. The foyer was lined with lotus-carved pillars with a vaulted ceiling while beneath their feet was a design of red Verona and white Carrara marble. Arthur knew Merlin would appreciate the beauty in all of it, but this train of thought only made him turn expectantly toward his father. “Did you hear what I said?”

Uther sighed with all the patience of a father handling his over energetic child on holiday. “Yes, you’re anxious to get to your boyfriend. The both of you can wait.”

He returned his attention to the concierge but when he received the key to their room, Arthur chose to remain in the lobby. “Unless there is a change of clothes up there I’ll wait here,” he informed.

“Room service provides food as well as clothes,” Uther sassed mildly. Arthur resigned himself for a pair of linen shorts that gave new meaning to the term _short_ and a matching tunic. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows on their way out of the hotel and into a rental car Uther had waiting while they quickly showered and dressed. Arthur felt half inclined to pick up an international phone somewhere for Merlin to have when he found him, but soon Uther was driving to the outskirts of the city where a series of farms were bustling with harvesting fruits and barley.

Suddenly the expanse of trees opened up to reveal a wide open area in various stages of construction, but on the far end was clearly a finished school with a hoard of children battling over a football over the ground, kicking up black soil and red clay in the process. Among them was a tall, burly man with wild dark hair contrasting with his bright grin and loud guffaws. Arthur would recognize him anywhere.

“Damn it—wait for the vehicle to stop at least,” Uther chided behind him, but his son was already running into the fray of children to pull the man aside.

“Balinor!”

The man perked up with puzzled expression before recognition dawned in his eyes. “Well wash my bollocks. What a nice surprise! What brings you to the furnace of hell?”

Arthur laughed despite himself. “Not for the climate, that’s for sure.”

“Ah, let me be the one to warn you now, the wildlife isn’t much better,” Balinor uttered, and Arthur followed his suspicious gaze over to where a baboon of all things reclined in the bucket of an excavator, eyeing them back just as keenly. Balinor turned to face Arthur once more. “If you have M&Ms, or anything edible that you value, don’t let them see it.”

Arthur’s blue eyes narrowed slightly, wondering if Balinor might have gone a bit batty from the heat. “I’m actually only concerned about Merlin.”

Balinor’s expression immediately fell. “Merlin? What’s the matter with him?”

Arthur’s heart and stomach smashed together as they fell to his feet. “I read news reports of terrorist activity in the area recently. What do you—he’s here, isn’t he?”

Arthur did not realize he was swaying on his feet due to blood draining from his face until Balinor grasped his shoulders with steady hands. That grin returned. “Of course he is! Sorry, just a misunderstanding without context. I thought he had called you to complain about something or other. He’s in class right now.”

Arthur’s innards were having a hard time returning to their rightful places. “Class?”

“Yes,” Balinor chuckled while rubbing his shoulders vigorously, invigorating them. “It’s bloody difficult finding and keeping a music teacher around here, but Merlin’s a natural. The kids took to him the day he arrived. Come here, you look parched.”

He led the way over to a pavilion where a couple tables were set up for volunteers and employees to rest alongside a row of coolers. Balinor handed Arthur a bottle of water and unscrewed one for himself. “Did you jump on a plane as soon as Merlin left? You could have just made a call over here.”

Arthur sputtered on his water, “I’ve been calling everyday! That cabbage head won’t pick up his phone!”

Balinor laughed. “That might be my fault, actually. Merlin’s a good sport but he’s been worked to the bone here and probably didn’t have the time to return your calls. How did you manage to catch a flight all the way—ah.” Balinor’s gaze diverted, and Arthur followed it to his own father approaching them. “Uther Pendragon.”

Uther paused beside Arthur until his dark eyes brightened with recognition. “Well I’ll be damned. It’s been a long time, Balinor. Don’t tell me you’re Merlin’s father.”

“It’d be easier to walk across the sun,” the man beamed. “He’s mine, but you’ve got quite a remarkable soul to calls yours.”

Arthur peered between them. “You know each other?”

“Same graduating class,” Balinor confirmed with a cocky, “I was valedictorian and Uther was my salutatorian. Fun times.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow towards his father. “Salutatorian? I’ve been grinding my ass to be valedictorian every year just to make up for you coming in second place?”

“Of course not,” Uther growled. “You’ve worked for the rank because you’re clever and deserving enough for it.”

Nonetheless Arthur rolled his eyes. There were some nights of sleep he would never get back.

Suddenly an outburst of many screaming voices erupted from the school building. Happy faces darkened by genetics or years in the sun contrasted with bright smiles as the children joined the others in the open playground. Some quickly joined the game of football while others went to talk to the volunteers and get water or settled on the ground to make necklaces out of flowers and reeds.

Behind them ran Merlin, shouting as obnoxiously jubilant as the rest of them. His arms were spread wide as if to chase them until his eyes alighted on his father waving. He began to walk over until he visibly faltered at the sight of who was running towards him.

“A-Arthur?” he stammered before they collided. Something fell to the ground but Arthur hardly cared as he hoisted Merlin off the ground in his bear hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Shut up and hug me,” Arthur ordered gruffly, burying his face in Merlin’s chest. It was damp with sweat and Arthur had never been happier to be in contact with sweat in his life.

“I-I can’t,” Merlin stuttered. “You’ve pinned my arms…and my lungs.”

Arthur instantly released him only to catch him again so his knees did not buckle. Merlin inhaled deeply once, twice, and then gazed up at Arthur with that uninhibited smile he loved. “Okay,” he initiated, and Arthur gently enfolded him in his arms this time. Merlin giggled over his shoulder as a large hand brushed through his hair. “Did you miss me that much?”

Arthur shoved him back to be held at arm’s length. “No, you idiot, I was worried out of my mind! You promised you’d call me when you landed!”

“I did! But the call wouldn’t go through,” Merlin defended, his smile quickly fading. “Then things got so busy, but I wrote you an e-mail everyday—you didn’t check your e-mail, did you?” he deduced, his eyes dropping into a deadpan stare.

Arthur looked as if he was fighting between embarrassment and guilt. “When did you get my e-mail address?”

“Way back when you commissioned me to make posters for the Gwen’s Halloween ball,” Merlin reminded pointedly. “You gave it to me yourself when you put your number in my phone.”

For a long moment, Arthur only stared at him. Then, he extracted his phone from his tight pocket and found forty or so e-mails waiting in his inbox…a handful of the most recent ones being from Merlin. “What boyfriend sends an e-mail, though?” he defended weakly. “How was I to know to check this?”

Merlin rolled his eyes and crouched to pick up something off the ground. He set a wooden structure on his head, causing Arthur to stare anew. “What the heck is that?”

Merlin planted his hands on his hips. “What do you mean? It’s a sun hat.”

“It looks like a boat on your head,” Arthur countered.

“It’s traditional headwear to the indigenous people in this region,” Merlin declared. “One of my students made it for me.”

Blond brows lifted. He gazed over the dozens of children that could not have been older than twelve. “One of these little tikes carved that? I’m impressed. But really, you look like you’re trying to answer a casting call for Star Wars.”

“This coming from the man wearing shorts three sizes too small,” Merlin retorted.

“I gave the concierge my size! This is what they brought me!”

“The sizes are different here,” Merlin sighed. “Didn’t they say anything about a conversion measurement chart or something?”

Arthur fidgeting with his phone, cramming it back into his pocket for something to do. “They might have…I was in too much of a hurry.”

Merlin’s frown eased. “To see me? It hasn’t been a week.”

The blonde sighed haughtily. “You’re in a terrorist zone, Merlin. What do you want from me? I panicked.”

The frown fully evaporated to make way for Merlin’s laugh. His shoulders shook with it as he gazed at his boyfriend fondly. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” Arthur huffed, and pulled Merlin into another hug.

A moment later he felt something poking along his neck. “Arthur, are you wearing sunscreen?”

He had left the scarf in the hotel during his haste. “No.”

Merlin extracted himself from the hug. “You’re already burning.”

“Well I don’t have a boat to block the sun,” Arthur sassed but it was cut short by Merlin already spraying him with sunscreen he had procured out of nowhere. Arthur coughed and waved him away but Merlin merely moved around him to get his neck. Some of the kids giggled in their direction when Merlin bent double to spray the length of his legs. “I think that’s enough.”

“There’s no such thing here,” Merlin replied, going so far as to lift Arthur’s tunic up to spray his stomach and back.

“Is that really necessary?”

“UV rays goes through clothing!” Merlin defended. 

“I think I’ll take the chance. People are staring.”

“That’s because these kids aren’t used to seeing someone as bright as you.” Arthur was caught off guard by the grin Merlin cast up to him. He gave a slight tug on his golden hair. “Expect some attention.”

Not a minute later, a small girl came over with vivid green eyes and chocolate skin. She pulled on Merlin’s shirt to bring him down to her level, where she whispered something in his ear. Then she paused for Merlin’s answer, nibbling on her thumbnail bashfully. When Merlin began to reply in the velvety tones of the language Arthur could not help but wonder, “Do you know the language?”

“I’m picking it up,” Merlin replied, “but we teach English here. She’s just shy. Come down here.”

As Arthur knelt beside them a certain, ineffable feeling welled up inside him; a train of thought that could only be described as _My boyfriend’s so smart._

“Go ahead,” Merlin smiled at the girl, who diverted her gaze toward Arthur. Her front teeth were growing in, giving her a crooked but endearing smile as she reached forward to touch his hair. His scalp tingled as she stroked locks of his hair, causing them to characteristically stand on their own.

Another sensation joined it, and Arthur glanced over to see a young boy also feeling his hair. Soon they were surrounded in a hub of curious children, all wanting to experience what they called “head sunshine” and “stringy gold.” After their turn, some of them settled around Merlin, putting their arms around his shoulders and petting his dark cowlicks fondly. The girl with green eyes sat in his lap playing with his sunhat and the long mass of dark hair tied over her shoulder.

“So…how go the music lessons?” Arthur asked casually with his hair in all directions.

Merlin beamed. “Like a dream.”

“I can imagine,” Arthur agreed before a baboon ran between the children’s legs with what looked like a bright yellow peanut M&Ms package. The children scattered the same time Balinor rushed past.

“God blast it! Give me back my protein, you heathen!”

The mob of students raced after him and the little thief, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone to rehydrate under the pavilion. Merlin’s gaze jerked up at the sight of Uther approaching them. “Mr. Pendragon—”

“Might as well call me Uther, Mr. Emrys,” he amended, visibly trying for politeness as he glanced at Arthur. “Dare I say it, you’re a good influence on him. He never would have thought of sunscreen.”

While he said this, he passed Arthur a tube of lotion and finished, “If everything’s all right here I will return to the hotel. Arthur are you staying here?”

His son turned to Merlin. “When are you done for the day?”

Merlin peeked at the school. “I have another class and was supposed to help with the mess hall for dinner, but Dad might be able to let me slide out of it.”

He and Merlin arranged for the latter to be picked up for dinner at the hotel. In the meantime, Arthur planned to escape the heat and let Merlin continue with his job. “Let Balinor know he’s invited,” Arthur said during a final hug. “I can’t kiss you can I?”

“I’m not sure the locals are ready for that yet,” Merlin confirmed apologetically.

He smirked when Arthur huffed a sigh. “Fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

Merlin gave his arm a squeeze and jogged back to the school. Arthur made a point to get properly fitting attire for dinner and consumed most of the time with a cool shower. He still had an hour before they picked up their dinner guests, so he opened his e-mails to read what Merlin had sent him. He laughed at the rant regarding the heat in the first message but he seemed to become acclimated letter by letter.

 _The bed isn’t on par with yours,_ he admitted, _but I haven’t any need for an electric sheet, that’s for sure. As much as I miss you, I’d kick you out of bed because it’s too hot for company._

Arthur laughed to himself and scrolled on. _The locals cook with the palm fronds here! And it’s so good! I’ve uploaded an obscene amount of them in the attachments so it might be a wonder if you even get this e-mail. But really, these people could get you to eat vegetables without complaint._

“We’ll see about that,” he murmured, garnering a curious look from Uther across the room.

_Of all the things you packed for me, you didn’t include a picture of yourself and everyone else. Sure, I have some on my computer but I can’t carry that around with me, plus I’m too tired to open my laptop when I get in for the night._

_So I woke up with a monkey sleeping next to me. I’ve been told to not be alarmed as this will become a regular occurrence because the nights are cold. Yes, I’m wearing your sweaters and I don’t want to hear or read one word about it!_

But after every letter were the same words in some form or fashion: I love you.

_I’m not even sure I’m spelling things right anymore. I have to sleep. I love you!_

_There’s a baboon in Balinor’s room. I have to go save him. Love you, and I’ll write again tomorrow!_

_So far, your sweaters still smell like you, but I think it’s morning where you are. Up and at’em, lazy daisy! Love you._

_I love you! Could you reply some, though? There’s only so much I can talk about._

Arthur yawned as he stood from the bed, feeling the full force of jetlag upon him. He marched forth, though, and found the rental car keys. “We’re early,” Uther informed.

“Better than late,” Arthur countered, and led the way out the door. The sun was still high in the summer sky as they pulled into the construction zone. Some parents were chatting with teachers and volunteers while their kids filed out of the schoolhouse, including Balinor. He was freshly showered, his facial hair was trimmed, and he shook Arthur’s hand strongly.

“Merlin’s just within. You can sit in on the end of the lesson if you want.”

“I don’t want to be a distraction,” Arthur shook his head, but as he said this, his attention was diverted to a thrumming sound coming from the building. Balinor smiled keenly, glancing between Arthur and the tones that were becoming more distinguished as a rustic form of music.

“You sure? They won’t even notice us.”

Uther waved him on from the car and Arthur followed Bainor through the side door that fed directly into a classroom. A wide blackboard took up one wall along with slates on each of the tables, but they were pushed back to the edges of the room. Similar to how the students had crowded around Merlin and Arthur earlier that day, they were now crowded in a tight circle around a focal point Arthur could not see. Some of them held their slates, on which they beat their chalk or knuckles in a rhythm while others rubbed their dry hands for a rustling sound broken up with snaps of their fingers. The rhythm was building while members on one side of the huddle sang something Arthur suspected was a traditional song of this region. The other half of students took up the other half of the chorus—

Merlin burst from inside the circle, standing tall above them, waving his arms and singing a chord before he ducked back down and the children echoed him. A moment later he popped up again, and the children giggled, disjointing the song before they fell back into it. This time Arthur was able to see what was happening within the huddle: Merlin was shaking a rattle of some kind and drumming the beat for them.

He stood a final time, but when he sang his bit, his body twisted. The students all leaned to one side and then the other, like a massive ring of cloth wringing around his frame and making whistling and whooshing sounds with their mouths. Their arms shot up to clap four times, finishing the song.

“Pile your tablets! Move the tables back, please,” he called, and helped them where he could. “Wait! Chalk!” he uttered and grabbed a box for the students to dump their pieces into on their way out. He returned their farewells and when he rotated to set the box on the front desk, his gaze lifted as if just noticing the extra people in the room. “Am I that late?”

Balinor chuckled. “No, Arthur’s just hungry.”

“Can I shower, first?” he asked, flapping the fabric of his shirt against his body.

It was then that Arthur noticed he wasn’t wearing a scarf. Granted it was too much in this heat, but now that he thought about it, Merlin had been wearing it less and less. Arthur smiled peacefully. “Come on, you saltlick. I really am hungry.”

They made their way to the housing building, which did not look utterly different from a dormitory. Balinor gave Arthur the tour on the way there and while Merlin dashed inside to wash and change. Within ten minutes he emerged with hair wet with water instead of sweat and a v-neck navy shirt over his faded, light grey jeans. Arthur’s head tipped to the side. “I thought all your jeans were black.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Merlin quipped. Arthur smirked and hooked an arm around his neck to draw him close for just a moment.

They never made it to the hotel.

As they made their way around the corner, a peppering of sound reached their ears, only it was loud enough to thunder across the sky. The sun was not low enough in the ground for someone to be out with firecrackers. Merlin and Arthur met Balinor’s gaze, and they bolted forward, kicking up dirt in their haste.

“Get to the car. Get away from here,” the latter ordered, but as soon as they entered the construction site, gunfire littered the air again, this time coupled with screams.

“The kids!” Merlin cried, darting for the pavilion where some families had remained for the last dregs of lemonade and snacks.

Balinor caught him and all but threw him toward Arthur. “I’ve got them. Get to the car!”

Arthur held Merlin’s hand as well as his arm and took off at a pace that nearly dislocated Merlin’s shoulder. He spared a second to transfer his arm around Merlin’s waist when he cried out in pain, but when he caught sight of the silver rental car, he tossed caution to the wind. Uther was already in the driver’s seat, waving them in and bellowing orders like the veteran he was. Arthur doubled over and pushed Merlin to do the same when another thread of gunfire rang out.

“Hold your glasses!” he barked the same moment his hand reached for the door handle. The car opened and he dived inside, only to hear Merlin’s shriek as the door slammed shut. Arthur tried to call out his name but it was cut short by the pummeling of bullets hitting the ground much closer now. “Merlin!” he shouted again, lifting his body from where he’d instinctively crouched behind the seats. “MERLIN!”

The head of black hair was getting smaller as he ran in the opposite direction of the car. “Arthur, we have to go! ARTHUR!” Uther roared, but he was already bounding out of the vehicle and keeping his head ducked in pursuit.

The blonde saw a flash of movement in the corners of his eyes and realized what had spurred Merlin to run: armed men were surrounding the construction site, corralling everyone where they would be easy targets. He found Merlin leading a small family out from the pavilion to behind a short row of buildings where the commotion had not yet reached. “Merlin! They know the terrain better than we do! We have to go!”

“Kids can’t outrun ak-47s!” he retorted without turning around. Arthur recognized the bright green eyes of the girl he held while he ran, and peeked at the mother and son running alongside them. Arthur scooped up the boy, allowing their speed to increase.

“This way!” Arthur ordered, earning a perplexed glance from Merlin since Arthur had hardly been here long enough to know the area, but followed nonetheless. “There’s higher ground this way! On the other side is the city!”

They reached the edge of the trees, where they relinquished the children to their mother and sprinted around the perimeter of the _Avalon_ site. “My father’s still in there,” Arthur uttered.

“Same,” Merlin nodded. They exchanged a glance since words were unnecessary.

“Well, I love you,” Arthur said.

“Now’s not the time to be sentimental,” he responded.

“Merlin, my mother died here. This is as good a time as any.”

Those sapphire eyes widened on him, and Merlin threw himself against Arthur, hugging him fiercely. “I love you too, and I’d run with you, but my dad—”

“Hush, I wasn’t suggesting that,” Arthur murmured. His embrace was so tight he wondered if Merlin could breathe, but he released him soon after. “Let’s go get them.”

Merlin followed him around the corner and through an alleyway, stopping just short of a cloud of dirt kicked up by bullets, feet, and vehicles trying to leave the premises. The growl of an engine suddenly reached their ears as headlights filtered through the haze. A silver streak rushed past, spraying them with dirt while the closed windows muffled Uther’s bellows. The inevitable crunch of bone and metal shrouded by men’s screams joined the cacophony.

“Well…he _did_ start off as a tank driver.” Arthur looked behind him for Merlin’s reply but found him instead halfway through the alley with a man whose face was entirely wrapped in faded black cloth except for his eyes. “MERLIN!”

The assailant had his firearm hanging from his shoulder and withdrew a blade from his belt. Merlin ducked and dodged the angry swipes before he managed to pin the arm against the brick around them. With one hand pinned, the man went for his firearm, but Merlin swung their arms up under the barrel, pointing it upward the same moment it fired. Brick dust and mortar rained over them, followed by larger chunks.

“Merlin!” Arthur cried out again, but all he could do was reach out as an entire section of the old building’s exterior fell over top of them.

With a haze of dirt on one side, and dust on the other, Arthur was coughing profusely. His lungs felt coated in grit as a large pair of hands grabbed him. His elbow connected with ribs and his fist with a jaw before he heard a gruff voice cough, “Wait, wait, lad it’s me!”

Balinor clutched his side but nevertheless hoisted Arthur to his feet. “Where’s Merlin?”

“Underneath that!” he exclaimed, pointing toward the wreckage.

To his utter disbelief, Balinor merely glanced and declared, “He’s safe under it. We have to move.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Arthur shouted, but the elder man ushered him forward.

“No one’s shooting at piles of rubble! _We_ are the targets!”

No sooner did he say this then two blurry figures turned in their direction. One of them fired while the other chose to run forward for a closer attack—

“Uhm!”

The sound gushed from Arthur’s lungs unbidden as something incredibly small struck with enough force to knock him off his feet. A pain unlike any he had ever felt reverberated from his side, just beneath his ribs. His hand instinctively wanted to clamp over the wound, but hovered over it, dreading the possibility of creating more pain. Arthur’s eyes moved upward, slowly comprehending that he was in shock as Balinor’s face hovered over him, clearly calling out his name.

Then Merlin’s entered his vision, swooping over him to lift Arthur’s arm over his shoulders. Merlin heaved him up and ran, the only thing keeping Arthur from being dead weight being his toes sluggishly kicking off the ground. The blond vaguely registered the continued chaos around them: Uther’s silver car bulldozing into a man swathed in black, his father erupting out of the car to take his firearm and shooting down others despite their bullets whistling near him, Balinor’s voice booming through the noise, and Merlin’s hands gripping his arm and waist like vices.

“Merlin…” he breathed, unsure if he was audible. He was inhaling dirt and exhaling pain from his side, and in this cloud he could only tell up from down because of Merlin. The words _shut up_ reached his ears as a massive figure emerged in the gloom. Merlin swung Arthur around the piece of construction equipment the same time it rang with bullets hitting it. Tackling Arthur to the ground, he covered his body with his own. In the rear of his mind, Arthur felt how Merlin was caked in dust and clay, never mind how his head bowed over his shoulder, his hands shielding Arthur’s face from the very dirt around them. 

It was Merlin’s trembles that awoke him, his involuntary squeaks of terror as bullets beat the clay and metal around them. A projectile whistled past, causing Merlin to lurch and shiver, quaking. Arthur tilted his head, seeing through Merlin’s fingers the hot dripping of red from Merlin’s shirt and its pooling over his forearm. He pulled Merlin’s hands off him to raise his head—bullets had whizzed over Merlin’s backside, creating streaks of scarlet that oozed garnet over Arthur’s body.

“St-stay down!” Merlin stuttered, trying to push Arthur’s head back to the ground.

 _Don’t be brave for me,_ Arthur wanted to say. He wanted to tell Merlin to get out. To go home. To apologize for not getting him to dinner sooner. For letting him come here at all. For the shitty, rotten luck that seemed to plague them at every turn. He wanted to appease Merlin’s fears, to make him laugh. _This isn’t campus. You can’t just carry me around like that. I have some dignity to maintain._

Instead he whispered a ragged, “Sorry,” as he closed his arms tightly around Merlin and dragged them both to their feet. His own wound seemed insignificant to Merlin’s mewls of pain. Getting them around the safer end of the equipment, he meant to inspect Merlin’s injuries but those pale hands reached for his ribcage.

“Arthur! No!”

“I said _hush,_ baby,” he cooed breathlessly, pushing Merlin’s hands aside. “Bigger priorities.”

He realized then that Merlin was crying, lost for words. Tracks of moisture dug through the layer of filth on his face. Between the dirt in his eyes, the shocks to his system and concern for Arthur, he was weeping yet standing perfectly erect, ready to run.

“I only prefer one man’s piece to be inside me,” Arthur quipped before he recognized what he was saying. “And that’s yours…obviously.”

Merlin’s ruddy eyes lifted, wide as the rims of his spectacles. His tears ran freely down his cheeks, his terror making him immobile. Arthur needed to somehow distract him before his mental stability entirely crashed. He haphazardly wiped at Merlin’s tears and said, “Look at you…always a mess. I think it’s safe to say that our dates outrival my parents’.”

That seemed to rouse Merlin as his brow furrowed and his mouth opened to yell at him, but the silver car rattled to a halt near enough to shower them with dirt. Balinor jumped out of the front seat and crouched low to open up the back passenger door. “GET IN!” he called the same time Uther shouted orders like the military commander he once was.

Arthur held onto his bleeding side as Merlin helped him to his feet and shoved him inside the car; Arthur did make the same mistake of releasing him and pulled Merlin inside with him.

The front door closed without Balinor in the seat.

“Dad!” Merlin exclaimed, scrambling forward before the passenger door shut.

_Whizz-rch!_

The all too familiar whistling sound was hurt a split second before Balinor lurched before him, blocking the doorframe with his body as red blossomed across his shirtfront like a great red poppy. His eyes glazed over with thin tendrils of hair stuck to the sweat of his cheeks and temples. A slight trench furrowed his brows, as if he was confused. His hands went slack on the car’s roof as Merlin caught him around the waist and dragged him inside the vehicle. Uther took off, spraying clay and steering through the dust as Arthur hastily aided in getting Balinor’s legs inside the car and the door shut.

Arthur was sandwiched between the opposite door and Merlin while Balinor lay across the seats, his legs bent against the car frame. Arthur winced, returning a hand to his side that was still oozing blood, albeit slowly. Balinor was in worse condition. Already, as Uther sped across rural streets and into city traffic, blood was dripping across the seat to stain the carpet underfoot.

Merlin was silent. Arthur curved his other arm around his front, pulling him against his chest even more than he already was, but Merlin hardly moved. His own arms were on Balinor, with one under his back and the other on his chest, failing to staunch the wound and feeling his father’s lifeblood flow between his fingers as the man’s face grew paler and paler.

Reaching the hospital was eerily clear and entirely a blur in Arthur’s cognition. Balinor was carted off toward surgery while dubious looks already formed on the doctor’s and nurses faces. Arthur was in turn ushered through sterile corridors; latex hands gripped him and pulled him from Merlin. He fought them, reaching for the torn streaks of bullet grazes across Merlin’s back and the flesh made cold from shock. Somehow, he felt that he hadn’t left the construction site; the battle had simply been moved here where ak-47s were replaced with scalpels and chemicals and dry, cold, sterile fists.

A plastic mask covered his mouth and nose. A bright light blinded his sight. A needle pierced his arm, and all went black.

He awoke the next day.

A tray of dry bread and something akin to porridge was beside his bed, but he drank the glass of water and sat up. His fluid bags were conveniently on a rolling tower, and he ignored the rush of blood to his head in order to stand. Instead of dirt in his mouth, his tongue tasted of chalk, arid and bland despite the water. He felt as if he had not bathed in a week even though he rolled the tower past a wash bin and sponges a nurse had yet to take away.

The bed across from him was empty, but the sheets were rumpled and open. Arthur steered himself into the hallway, where a surgeon with a clipboard readily intercepted him. “Mr. Pendragon, your stitches are too fresh for mobility.”

“Where’s Merlin?” he countered. “Merlin Emrys.”

“He is with his father. I assure you, he will be returned to the room you two are sharing, but you must remain here. You may cause internal bleeding and hemorrhaging again.”

 _Again,_ echoed in Arthur’s mind. “That bad?”

The corner of the doctor’s white-stubbled mouth curved into a smirk. “Quite. The bullet stopped just shy of your heart.”

“What about Merlin? Of Balinor? Where is my father?”

“Young Emrys is in better condition than you,” he promised. “Some nasty grazes on his back, but nothing more. He will heal with scars that will fade with time. His mental exertion is our concern for the moment.”

This seemed all he was willing to expose, but Arthur pushed. “And Balinor? Was my father harmed?”

The man looked up from his files again, this time sighing with his smile, as if preparing for an apology. “Your father suffered a blow to the head and various bullet wounds, but he is otherwise unscathed. I shall anticipate as much trouble from him when he awakes as you are giving me now.”

Arthur would have growled if his throat was not parched. “Jesus fucking christ, is Balinor dead? Is that why you’re avoiding him?”

A short burst of air exhaled from the man’s nose but he managed to patiently explain. “Mr. Emrys’s father is comatose. His bullet actually made it to his heart.”

 _Comatose isn’t dead. Comatose isn’t dead,_ chanted inside Arthur’s mind. He swallowed dryly. His eyes felt heavy and burned with tears making the doctor’s visage blurry. “Merlin doesn’t deserve this. Balinor can’t die. I don’t care how many patients you have. Save him.”

Finally, the clipboard was lowered to rest against the doctor’s abdomen. Arthur read the name on his lapel tag: M.d. Kilgarrah. “The four chambers of the man’s heart are currently being held together with pins and string. There are more technical, medically-saavy names for them, but that is in essence what they are. He currently has the lowest blood pressure and heart rate outside of the morgue, and I do in fact have several more patients from the same terrorist attack the four of you blew in from. I’m sorry, Mr. Pendragon, but his outlook is hardly uplifting, and all we can do now is wait. His body must do the work. I’ve done all I can.”

Arthur reminded himself to breathe. Hemorrages would help no one right now. “Where is he?”

Dr. Kilgarrah exhaled a long sigh. “Two doors on the left.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “But for god’s sake, use a wheelchair.”

Something bumped the backs of his knees, and Arthur glanced back to find a nurse already ready to wheel him to the room in question. Dr. Kilgarrah gripped his forearm to help him to his seat, and they parted ways. Gliding across the floor, Arthur was leaning forward until the nurse came to an abrupt stop outside of the room, causing Arthur to lurch against the back of the chair. In a thick accent, she warned, “If your bum leaves the seat, I’ll sedate you.”

She turned her nose up at him and he grimaced his way into the singular hospital room. Merlin rested on his forearms beside his father’s sleeping form. Arthur bumped his wheels against his chair. “Nice dress.”

It was the exact same hospital gown Arthur wore but the laces of his were open, allowing his bandages to breathe.

Merlin startled from his thoughts and looked at Arthur as if he had not seen him in a lifetime. The bags under his eyes were ruddy, making his eyes sink into his skull and appear too large for their sockets. As Arthur gazed at him those eyes grew even heavier, Merlin visibly sinking deeper into a renewed depression. Unable to bear the sight, he reached out to cradle Merlin’s cheek. His face sagged into his palm but no tears fell from Merlin’s eyes. Arthur stole a peek at Balinor: he appeared deceptively healthy despite the multitude of cords attached to him and the translucent breathing tube curving out of his throat.

Returning his gaze to Merlin, Arthur pulled him against his chest, careful not to touch where the bandages were. “It’s his heart that’s injured, not his brain. He can recover from this.”

But Merlin said nothing. Arthur’s hand on his nape tightened, holding him as close as he dared given their conditions. “Baby, say something. I can’t stand your silence.”

Merlin heaved a dry sob, catching his face in his hands. “Dad warned me that this life was dangerous, impractical, but mostly for you.”

Arthur frowned, liking the chalky taste in his mouth better than where this conversation was going. “What do you mean?

Merlin removed his glasses to wipe his face. Even this simple act seemed to exhaust him. “We had a lot of time to talk over the last week. He warned me of this area, and told me everything. How this line of work made him too much of a notable figure, how this endangered my mother and me, how running _Avalon_ was a vicious circle of moving for work and having to keep moving for safety…”

“Merlin, if this is you breaking up with me, you’re going to need a better excuse than my safety,” Arthur snapped.

His face contorted, wanting to weep tears he did not have. “I’m happy with you…and I want to be happy with you until the day I die.”

Arthur pressed the pads of his fingers to Merlin’s lips, wanting to end his words right there. “If you love me, then keep me.”

Merlin pulled his hand down. “There’s more to this than what we endured today. If Dad dies…or stays like this…” Arthur pressed his forehead to Merlin’s, silently encouraging him to continue. “For all its progression, _Avalon_ is an old company with old ways of doing things. My father’s shares, his ownership of the company…will go to me.”

Arthur’s brows lifted. “That’s a mountainous responsibility.”

Merlin huffed a laugh but it was hollow. “I don’t know anything about running a business, much less an international one with multiple branches and departments…but you do.”

He peeked up to meet Arthur’s puzzled and stunned gaze. “Wait, were you breaking up with me or breaking this request to me?”

The shy smile was more genuine on Merlin’s face this time. “Both? I want you safe more than anything. I could transfer the shares to people of the company and be done with this…but after all the work he’s put into the company, keeping it as clean as possible of corruption…”

Arthur nodded. “ _Avalon_ would fall into ruin if you handed over those shares. Sure.”

Merlin stared at him before he gaped dumbly. “Sure, what?”

Arthur’s lips parted in a smile. “Well I am an international relations and political science major with a minor in business administration. Even without grad school I am more qualified than you.”

His boyfriend blinked as if he was dazed. “You don’t know what you’re saying—”

“I know this means working my way through the company and proving myself to the veterans in their leather bound desk chairs. I know it involves a lifetime of work somehow squashed into a small number of years or even months. It also means I’ll chase you around this globe, ruling it through the mindset Balinor set for _Avalon._ Because if you think for one moment I’m letting so much as a body of water separate us after you carried me through a battle ground, then clearly I haven’t proved how hopelessly smitten I am with you.”

Merlin’s lashes batted groggily. “Really?”

Arthur smiled bashfully with a roll of his eyes. “Is it not obvious? I guess I’ll have to step up my game to make it more apparent in the future.”

He pulled Merlin back to kiss his forehead, and then his lips slowly dragged to his temple and cheekbone. A thumb stroked Merlin’s neck as he glanced at Merlin’s hands resting on Arthur’s knees. “I’ve never seen you wear jewelry, have I?”

Merlin’s eyes lifted suspiciously. “What is your dosage?”

Arthur’s features fell into a deadpan stare. “It’s a perfectly reasonable observation. Are you against all that glitters?”

Merlin’s skepticism did not vanish but he admitted, “I’ve never had an incentive to. I’d have to think about it.”

Arthur’s gaze was soft but determined. “Think about it.”

Although after Merlin’s confession, Arthur did not think there was much to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I'm so sorry this took so long, but take them now and I'll edit later haha


	28. Diamond Day ~ Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is IIIIIITTTTTT. I'm weeping, no big deal. Thank you all SOOOO much for being with me until the end! And read all the way down for my gift to you <3

A year and a half later.

A glossy magazine rested on the expensive table cloth titled, _Suave Mayhem_ , and it was open to the start of an article on one side while on the other were pictured two men in expensive suits. The tall blonde stood a little off to the side in a cool grey ensemble with his hands in his pockets, while the brunette’s navy-clad pelvis leaned against a dark wooded table, allowing his crossed ankles to be outstretched. In large, calligraphic text, read the start of the article:

 _A family affair? In less than eighteen months, the renowned international corporation,_ Avalon Shores _, witnessed the tragic and sudden death of its most active leader since its founding, but the fate of the company met a surprise in the form of his son, Merlin Emrys._ Avalon _is known for it’s medieval ways regarding corporate structure, and the late CEO’s shares and ownership of the international empire descended upon this twenty-one year old, no doubt causing many dubious glares of protest._

 _But the newly inaugurated Emrys held an even greater surprise than his late father. He was already an established artist in both graphic business and has easily called many prominent galleries across the country home, but Emrys was an active employee of_ Avalon _when tragedy struck, and he seemed ready with a wild card up his sleeve in the form of none other than Arthur Pendragon. Yes,_ that _Pendragon. None other than the son of the political realm’s newest member after his successful election last year, Uther Pendragon, Arthur was also an experienced member of_ Avalon _and more than ready for the challenge ahead._

 _Behold the dawn of a new age in_ Avalon Shores’ _history, one in which not one man rules the charitable empire, but two. That’s right, Emrys’s first order of business was signing off half of his inherited shares to Pendragon, and the two have been inseparable ever since. In the unspeakable span of months, the two have taken over…_

Above the magazine was an entire wall featuring images of the same couple in the same suits, but this time closer together. Arthur stood before Merlin leaning on the table, holding his hand, laughing at something the other said while unconsciously fiddling with the twisted gold band on Merlin’s finger. In the corner of each of the professional pictures were Gwaine’s initials, proudly emblazoned on business and engagement photos alike, but each of the wedding guests were invited to bring their own images of the pair. Blackmail of all kinds adorned the wall as Arthur ducked out of the bustling ballroom around the corner, his stomach plummeting.

He felt his phone vibrate in his interior breast pocket, and the a cappella ring tone grew louder as he dug it out of the folds of his tuxedo. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit—What?” he greeted.

The mobile was immediately taken out of his hand. Arthur’s gaze shot to Merlin and instantly shrank with guilt. “This is Mr. Emrys,” Merlin stated calmly. “What can I do for you?”

The speaker was loud enough for Arthur to hear the long pause and its succeeding, “Mr. Emrys? _The_ Emrys? Er, I was calling for Arthur Pendragon, but of course I’ll gladly speak to you—”

Merlin smiled despite the receiver not being able to see it. “I’m afraid you’ve caught myself and Mr. Pendragon at an inopportune time. Can your business be summed up in an e-mail?”

“Oh! Yes! Of course, Mr. Emrys. So sorry for the intrusion—”

“No intrusion at all, just a bit of a meeting, you understand.”

“I do. Thank you for this time, Mr. Emrys. It was a pleasure.”

Merlin chortled since the conversation was hardly sixty seconds. “The pleasure was mine. Goodbye.”

The hand holding the phone planted itself on his hip as he waited expectantly for Arthur’s excuse. “I forgot it was in my pocket,” he tried. Merlin lifted a single brow. “It’s a habit! What do you want from me?”

“No. Phones,” he reminded curtly. “That was _your_ condition for this evening too.”

“I know,” Arthur muttered, turning his phone off before inserting it back inside his pocket. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ve got two weeks of honey moon to fill.”

His shame dissolved into a cheeky grin as he tugged Merlin forward by his hips. Lacing his fingers behind Merlin’s lower back, he tilted his hips from side to side, swaying along with the music thrumming from the ballroom. He intended to lean in for a thoroughly long kiss that would not have hoots and glasses crashing together from their audience, but a hand blocked him.

“You’re right,” Merlin agreed. “All two weeks for you to make it up to me that you brought your phone to our wedding.”

“Ugh,” Arthur groaned, his forehead falling onto Merlin’s shoulder. “Please don’t leave me a virgin tonight.”

Merlin snorted next to his ear. “You’re hardly a virgin.”

“But it’s our wedding night,” Arthur whined, nuzzling Merlin’s neck and giving it a few nibbles. “I want to ravage my husband.”

Merlin hummed and softened in his arms. Arthur felt his fingers in his hair before Merlin promised, “It would be a useless punishment if we both suffered. We just need to cut the cake and I’m yours.”

“You’re already mine,” Arthur retorted huskily, swooping up to capture Merlin’s lips. He readily tilted his head, carefully kneading their lips to feel Merlin’s softness, the sweetness of champagne on his tongue. The moment came when Arthur could either usher Merlin out the doors to a private setting or pull back, and he reluctantly chose the latter. “Let’s cut the damn cake,” he muttered.

“It’s chocolate,” Merlin chuckled, intertwining his fingers with Arthur’s and leading him back to the ballroom. The opposite wall was entirely windows overlooking the boardwalk of their internship town. Arthur had two stipulations for their wedding before he left it in Gwen and Morgana’s hands: no electronics except for Gwaine’s cameras, and the location. Merlin had smiled to himself when he heard it; he knew Arthur wanted to replace the harsh memories the place originally held, and no one complained about a reception party in a beach town.

Merlin was swept away by Leon, Elyan, and the other a cappella members once they were seen, however, and Arthur resigned himself to at least another two hours before he and Merlin could be alone.

“Get out of my seat, Miniature Emrys,” he barked when he reached his table.

The young boy, no older than eight, craned his neck to glare at him. Those bright blue eyes were lighter than Merlin’s but those wild cowlicks ran in the family. “Shove off, Arthur!” Mordred whined, his feet dangling from the chair.

He set his forearm on the spine of the chair and leaned down to be on the boy’s level. “Look, you might be his cousin, but he’s my husband now. I outrank you.”

“I knew him first!” Mordred argued. “And longer than you!”

Arthur sighed. The kid was cute but a royal brat when it suited him. “What did you expect, to marry him yourself? This isn’t eighteen-ten.” He didn’t think it relevant to inform Mordred that men could not marry in the nineteenth century.

“No!” the boy pouted, “but ever since he met you he’s been busy all the time! He doesn’t come home as often as he used to, and I won’t forgive you for this!”

 _Oh, the easy priorities of youth,_ Arthur sighed. He carried a chair over to sit next to Mordred, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that he had two weeks to himself, to Merlin, without the world on his shoulders and its mechanisms oiled by _Avalon._ But Arthur smiled to himself. There was not anyone he’d willingly share the weight with other than Merlin, and his eyes sought him out in the crowd.

Mordred kicked his shin. “Ow! What the—helm—was that for?”

“Pay attention! I’m still talking to you!” Mordred retorted.

“Oy vey,” he submitted until he rushed to answer the summons of cake cutting. It was delicious, as promised, but the desire to sneak away was hindered by guests wanting their picture taken, for plans to be made for brunch before the pair disappeared for a fortnight, and most ardently, Mordred.

“He’s not allergic to anything, but he doesn’t eat beef if he can help it,” the boy was saying. He was taking his grand old time eating his slice of cake. Arthur’s head was propped on his fist as if he was riveted by information he already knew.

“You don’t say.”

“Yes, and this is important!” Mordred glared. “It bothers his stomach, so don’t make him eat it. He likes mangos and strawberry cream cheese…”

Arthur could not help but smile. Of all the ways to be cock blocked, an over-protective eight year old was a method he least expected.

Long fingers combed over Mordred’s curls, tearing the boy’s attention upward. “Merlin!”

He smiled and bent double to kiss his hair. “Thank you for keeping Arthur entertained. I’ll take it from here.”

“No, I’m not finished teaching him yet,” Mordred proclaimed, shoveling a bit of chocolate into his mouth.

“Oh,” Merlin blurted, glancing at Arthur as if he could not believe he interrupted such a time. “My apologies.”

Panic flashed in Arthur’s eyes and he quickly amended, “I promise I won’t break him in the two weeks you won’t see him. No beef, mangoes, strawberry, I’ve got it all. Let’s continue the lesson at a later date.”

He was already stepping around Mordred’s chair when one of his small hands grasped Arthur’s cufflink. He peered down and was surprised by the anxious worry on the boy’s face. “You promise?”

Arthur’s eyes softened and he knelt down before him. “I promise, but you know, he’s not as breakable as you might think.”

Merlin had knelt down beside him and caught Mordred when he lunged for a hug. Merlin stood so he could swing Mordreds legs from side to side. “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast, yeah? I’m not going anywhere until I get a proper goodbye hug.”

“Okay!” the boy chimed, his worries immediately abated. He planted a noisy kiss on Merlin’s cheek and left a chocolate print before he was set down. Arthur spared one last minute to cleaning Merlin of icing before he marched out of the ballroom and yanked Merlin into the lift. No sooner were they inside their suite, then he had Merlin pressed against the door.

“Mmah, whose idea was it to wear tuxes?” he complained between kisses and buttons.

“Mine,” Merlin breathed. “I’ve been ready all night looking at you.”

That wide grin appeared, the one that made Arthur shine. It only faltered when his eyes hooded at the feel of Merlin’s erect groin against his palm. Kicking off his shoes, Arthur hastily worked himself and Merlin out of as many garments as possible before he became too impatient and decided their shirts could just stay on.

The landmines of clothes, however, made Arthur trip backwards onto the bed, taking Merlin with him. He laughed, rising up enough for Arthur to crawl so his entire frame was on the bed and Merlin was straddling him. A pile goodies had been assorted on the bed—tokens from Gwaine, no doubt—which were now scattered over the floor and mattress, but Arthur grabbed the lube and paused when he touched Merlin’s entrance.

“You really are ready. Is this what you were doing when you disappeared to the bathroom for thirty minutes?”

Merlin smiled with a mixture of mischief and guilt, and chose not to answer in favor of slicking Arthur’s penis with firm, measured strokes that made his jaw drop. He leaned back, letting himself be at Merlin’s mercy. His hands caressed Merlin’s waist, felt their way over the scars across his spine and back down to knead his ass as it lowered over his cock. Merlin’s head fell back when Arthur’s mouth found his nipple, tweaking it between his lips and flicking his tongue on it before a nibble drove Merlin’s pelvis to buck against Arthur’s.

A guttural moan escaped him and he pulled Merlin’s hair back, exposing his throat to open-mouthed kisses while Merlin’s hips rolled over him. Arthur feared he was pathetically close to the brink, but then Merlin’s head fell over his shoulder, clutching him tightly as his seed spurted across his stomach. Arthur hugged his waist and flipped them over, driving himself balls deep inside until he felt his cock pulsing with his heart beat in the aftershocks of his orgasm, but he did not pull out immediately.

Arthur propped himself up onto his elbows and raked Merlin’s hair off his face, relishing his swollen lips and dewy eyes. “How are your eyes?” he purred.

Merlin blinked vacantly. “What do you mean?”

An unconscious smile was playing across Arthur’s face as his fingertips traced the path of the rims and ear pieces Merlin’s spectacles used to take across his face. “Laser eye surgery was a good idea,” he murmured.

Merlin’s chest shook with his laughter. “Why, so you don’t have to worry about my glasses flying across the bed when you throw me around?”

Arthur’s grin bloomed wider but he left his answer unsaid. In truth, he loved Merlin no longer being vulnerable like that anymore, but his favorite aspect of the surgery was in moments like this, when he could look and touch Merlin without hindrance.

“You seem more at ease since the procedure,” he responded instead.

“I am,” Merlin confirmed with his fingertips on Arthur’s jawline. “Which was less the case when we were in the room.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Arthur lied.

Merlin’s arm flopped across the bed. “The doctor nearly sent you out of the room in fear that you were breaking my hand.”

“I was comforting you,” he returned, but his gaze avoided Merlin’s knowing eyes.

“I was the one being operated on, and I was comforting you more than anything,” he giggled. Those fingers returned to roaming Arthur’s face, brushing through his silken tresses. “I like seeing you,” he uttered softly.

Arthur had sworn to himself he would not tear up when he met Merlin at the end of the aisle, swore like a mantra that he would not join Hunith’s sobs at the sight of Merlin grinning at him with his lily and peach blossom boutonniere and those goofy cowlicks and those slacks that hugged his legs just right and….

Well, Merlin wiped his quiet tears from his cheeks now as he did then, doting on him without drawing attention to the droplets. “I like seeing you too,” Arthur whispered, not trusting his voice to say it any stronger. And he did not have to, as Merlin pulled him down for a kiss that left them both gloriously wrecked but ready for more.

The following morning saw Arthur and Merlin showered and ravenous for the hotel’s five-star breakfast. Mordred’s voice rang out in the massive dining room under the domed ceiling. The place was bustling with sunlight, white marble, and the chinks and clatters of silverware. Merlin caught Mordred when he ran for him and lifted him for a spin. The boy eagerly led the way to the tables of food, where Arthur recollected a small observation he’d been having for some time. He poked Merlin’s waist, earning an inquiring look.

“You’ve gained weight,” he stated.

Merlin’s eyes shot wide and he leapt a step back to have room to examine himself. “Really? Am I fat, yet?”

Laughter burst from Arthur’s chest. “What? Is that your goal?”

Merlin was twisting this way and that, trying to see himself better. “It’s not likely to happen with my metabolism—but really? Have I gained—oh. These are still here.”

His features fell in disappointment when he felt his ribs through his shirt. Arthur pulled him close with one arm and kissed his neck. “Those are meant to be there, cabbage head. You look stunning.”

And he did. Merlin had finally returned to a healthy weight and he positively glowed. His slim figure was no longer sickly, but strong. Arthur handed him a plate and ushered, “But if fat is what you’re aiming for, let’s get that started.”

Hunith smiled at them when they returned to the table. One of her hands was skewering blueberries onto her fork while the other’s fingers were laced with none other than Balinor’s. Merlin sat beside him and matched his beaming smile. “Good morning. How are you?”

“Oh you know,” Balinor gave his chest a pat, right above his heart, “being dead is mighty fine; secret retirement even more so. Beautiful wedding, gentlemen, and I trust a night to match. What’s next on the itinerary?”

Merlin and Arthur looked at each other, sharing soft smiles as they dived into their breakfast. Balinor and Hunith peeked at each other, disregarding their lack of response. Mordred, however, stared at the two couples with confusion. With Merlin and Arthur freshly married, and Hunith and Balinor’s vows renewed, what was an eight year old to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so initially I planned to kill Balinor, and I kept putting this off because I just couldn't get myself to write it and ultimately tweaked the ending.
> 
> PLUS I've actually been busy writing [my next Merlin fic!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5167019/chapters/11901986)! [CLICK CLICK CLICK!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5167019/chapters/11901986) and I hope you enjoy it!! (beware that the chapters are really long and it's a slow burn like this one haha)


	29. Bonus Chapter: Who's King?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all those who stuck with this story even with all its flaws. Happy Christmas :)

Merlin sprang out of bed a second before the alarm went off. “It’s time! It’s the day!”

“Ughmph,” Arthur mumbled, dropping a pillow over his face while three quarters of the covers came off the bed with Merlin. The door of the bathroom shut only to swing open again.

“Arthur, get up! You’re my ride! I need you looking alive!”

The pillow mumbled something like, “In a minute.”

The next Arthur knew, he was being dragged out of the bed and landing unceremoniously on the frigid carpet. “Another minute…”

Whether it was sixty seconds or minutes, he could not tell, but he thoroughly awoke when Merlin’s pacing around the bed resulting in a foot landing on his stomach. While Arthur tried to refrain from coughing up his spleen, Merlin finished making the bed and hoisted his fiancé to his feet. “I’ll make you a bite to eat. Be ready in five!”

And then he was out the door, leaving a frazzled Arthur staring after him. _Day? What day…?_ he wondered. He was halfway through brushing his teeth when he finally noticed the post-it on the mirror reminding: _Friday, 9am, LASER DAY!_

“Shit!” he splattered the glass with toothpaste as he hastily rinsed. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”

He was promptly dressed and met Merlin in the kitchen with his car keys. He usually took the mornings to savor how adeptly Merlin had learned the art of smoothie making, but this was not the day for that.

“Do you have the insurance stuff?”

“Yep!” Merlin chimed.

“Did you grab a bottle of water?”

“Yep!”

“The eye drops?”

“They give those to me afterwards,” Merlin reminded.

“Right. Glasses?” Arthur asked, trying to remember everything they would need.

“They’re on my face. You know, usually the patients are the apprehensive ones,” Merlin commented as they pulled out of the neighborhood.

“Huh?” he muttered, focusing on stopping at the red light.

Merlin laughed and rubbed his thigh. “Just get us there, baby. It’ll be over in an hour.”

Arthur could not exactly recollect details of the journey after that point but the seconds ticking by in the optometrist’s waiting chair were excruciatingly embedded into his memory as Merlin eased back on the cushioned table. The nurse had asked if Arthur wanted to sit in on the operation, to which he had nodded eagerly and taken a place off to the side of the machinery. He knew how this was supposed to go: Merlin lies down, they clamp his eyelids open, remove the layer of cornea tissue, laser, and then it was over.

But watching a pair of metal prongs hold open his fiancé’s eyes was another matter entirely.

“Sir, are you all right?” the nurse whispered.

“Splendid. Why do you ask?” he heard himself ask.

“Because you’re making a metal chair creak, sir,” she murmured, out of earshot of the doctor and Merlin. “Would you feel better if you saw what was happening?”

Arthur glanced at her, “What do you mean? Won’t I get in the way?”

She smiled, “No, not at all if you just peek at the screen over here.”

Releasing the arms of the chair, he followed behind her to where a monitor showed what the optometrist was viewing through the eyepieces of his machinery. He had already moved on to Merlin’s other eye, but when Arthur audibly cringed as the blade shaved off cornea tissue, the procedure paused.

“Squeamish?” the man inquired.

“No,” Arthur choked. “Not a bit.”

“Arthur,” Merlin mumbled. He’d been told not to speak or move, but he extended a hand outward. “Come here.”

He moved around the desk to Merlin’s side. He kissed the back of Merlin’s hand when he took it, but the tips of the fingers turned violet as he watched from a closer angle the lights of the laser dance across Merlin’s eye.

“Arthur, I can’t feel my face but I can feel my hand breaking. Could you loosen up?”

“Oh! S-Sorry—you really can’t feel anything?” Arthur stammered. Merlin had not heard him stumble so much since Arthur asked him to marry him. They had gone back to Hunith’s for New Year’s and Arthur had gotten down on one knee at the stroke of midnight in the tulip fields.

“Nope,” Merlin assured before the nurse reminded him to try not to move his face too much.

“You’re done,” the doctor countered. “Move all you want, just don’t touch your eyes until our next appointment.

Arthur felt like a reed being shoved out of the way for the nurse to help Merlin out from under the machinery and to his feet. He blinked several times before he chose to keep them shut. “It’s really bright.”

“You’ll feel sensitivity for the next twenty-four hours,” the nurse explained. “And you’ll need to avoid any screens or strenuous activity for the same duration. No phones, computers, etc.”

He nodded and reached back for Arthur, knowing from experience that Arthur was already halfway in reaching for his hand. The blonde felt Merlin’s twisted gold engagement band rub between his fingers as they walked to the lobby and awaited their goodie bag filled with a mild prescription, goggles, and eye drops.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” Arthur declared. He ran outside to the car and then sprinted back in and said, “Hold absolutely still,” before sliding a pair of sunglasses over Merlin’s ears.

Through the dark lenses, he could see Merlin’s eyelashes swoop up, and then widen as a giddy smile spread across his face. Merlin poked his nose. “I can see your pores.”

Arthur blinked, torn between frowning and gaping. He chose the latter. “Really? Already?”

The nurse smiled and said, “Things will still be a bit blurry as your eyes heal, but that won’t last for long. Sleep is the fastest way for your eyes to do their business.” She turned to Arthur. “It’s your task to make sure he doesn’t touch his eyes and that he gets his drops every two hours. Understood?”

Arthur’s chest lifted as he nodded once. “Yes’m.”

“Very good. See you in a couple days, Merlin.”

He waved goodbye and Arthur helped him back into the front seat of the car. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“You know how your eyes ache after an all-nighter or after a long movie in the cinema? That’s all this is. I’m fine, really, Arthur. Let’s go home.”

Arthur had never driven so carefully in his life but he was also glad their flat had a lift so Merlin did not have to navigate up stairs. Since they lived in Gwaine’s apartment building, Arthur took a second to send him a _Do Not Disturb_ text and then had the keys ready to their flat. _Avalon_ had headquarters just about everywhere, including in the same city as the winery. This allowed Merlin and Arthur to do their duty as CEOs while Merlin snuck off to make art for his second job as well as taste test Gwaine’s concoctions.

Arthur led Merlin back to bed and eased his shoes off before upending the bag, spilling its contents across the comforter. He lifted two large lenses with perplexity. “ _These_ are the goggles? What the hell are these? Contacts for frogs?”

Merlin still had the sunglasses on and yawned. “Just tape them on.”

Left with little choice, Arthur did just that, crisscrossing tape over the lenses so they wouldn’t move on Merlin’s eye sockets. The brunette yawned again as Arthur closed the drapes. When he heard the doorknob turn, he uttered, “Arthur, come here. I need you.”

“I’m just getting a box of tissues for when you need the eye drops,” he promised, but Merlin was already yawning a third time in hardly as many minutes.

“I need you to make sure I don’t roll over in my sleep. Tissues can wait.”

So Arthur waited. He climbed onto the monstrously large bed and laced his fingers with Merlin’s while sneaking a kiss on his cheek. Arthur smiled at how Merlin looked like a bug, but one who was already sleeping soundly.

Two hours later Arthur woke him enough to remove the lenses and apply the eye drops but then he was back asleep and Arthur returned to reading _A Dance with Dragons_.

After another hour and a half, Merlin awoke on his own, his hand sliding over the bed toward Arthur’s weight and gripping his t-shirt. Arthur put his book down and pried the lenses off. As he leaned across Merlin to set them on the bedside table, Merlin’s lips pressed against his cheek. “I need real breakfast.”

Arthur chuckled and countered, “If that’s the kiss you’re bribing me with, you’ll have to do better, darling.”

Ever so carefully, he tilted his head and captured Merlin’s lips, still tasting of mango and pineapple. “What would you like? I’ve recently conquered quiches for my repertoire.”

Merlin giggled, “Prove it.”

Arthur brought the eye drops with them for when the two hour mark hit and unconsciously pulled one of the kitchen chairs out for Merlin as he strode toward the fridge. Instead of hearing weight fall into it, though, Arthur heard the sound of snapping plastic and glass. He turned and saw Merlin’s spectacles falling into the rubbish bin. He hadn’t even noticed Merlin grabbing them. “Are you sure?” he blurted.

Merlin looked up, his eyes finding him instantly over the grandiose expanse of the kitchen. He smiled, his gaze soft, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Arthur swallowed. “Wow. This is what people mean when they say they feel naked, isn’t it?”

Merlin grinned as he passed behind Arthur toward the water dispenser in the refrigerator. “Well, now you know how it is to get one’s glasses held hostage all the time.”

Arthur whirled around, following his movement. “Wha—Did I—I never meant to—Was it that bad? I never meant to make you feel—I thought it was…I don’t know…Helpful? Endearing? Cute?”

Merlin gave him a look as he pressed his hand across Arthur’s mouth. “I know. It wasn’t, but I know. Anyhow, what does it say about me that I still trusted you when you did?”

But Arthur’s shoulders had slumped. “Merlin, I…I’m so sorry. Am I the reason we did this today?”

“Hush, no,” Merlin curtailed. He set his glass on the counter behind Arthur and put his arms around his waist. “I’ve wanted this for years, but I could never find a surgeon who wouldn’t tell me that my eyes were too far gone for a laser to fix. Technology’s finally caught up with my needs, that’s all. Maybe this isn’t coming off very clearly, but I’ve kind of had a massive thing for you for a while. I guess I thought my tolerating a lack of vision on occasion made this obvious.”

Arthur grinned like a fool as he raked Merlin's hair off of his forehead, careful not to get anywhere near his eyes. “If you had said something, I would have stopped immediately.”

“I know,” Merlin smiled, pecking a kiss on his lips. “That’s wh—”

The front door opened and Uther Pendragon limped into the flat. His gaze alighted on them and he frowned. “It would be a relief one day to walk in here with the two of you _not_ embracing.”

Arthur smirked and kissed Merlin's hair before releasing him. “I gave you a key for visits, not constant check-ins.”

Uther grimaced as he lowered himself onto the couch. “Half the time I feel like I still have half a dozen bullets in my legs. And what do you mean, constant? It’s a damn miracle you’re in town. With the work you’ve gotten yourself into, I don’t know when you’ll have the time to see me.”

“We’re here for Merlin’s laser treatment,” Arthur reminded. “While I’m at it, do you want something to eat?”

“I noticed the lack of headgear,” Uther commented dryly. “Please tell me you’ve moved past scrambled eggs.”

Merlin and Arthur exchanged glances. Being on remotely good terms with Uther was the most they could ask for. Merlin was not going to complain about the man’s temperament, especially since even with his new governmental position, Uther had taken more time out for his children than he had in the past decade. And as a plus, Arthur’s broccoli quiches were actually delicious.

Meanwhile, Arthur failed to snort down his laughter when Merlin caught Uther wiping his hands on the edge of the tablecloth. “We have napkins,” he stated, deadpan.

Uther stared dumbly at him, clearly not expecting such immediate success with the treatment. When he sought some sort of assistance from Arthur, however, his son only shrugged.

“I’m pretty, but I’m not the king of this household.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't checked it yet, my latest Merthur fic is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5167019/chapters/11901986). Updates are slow but the next chapter is almost finished, I promise :)

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr shenanigans](http://pondermoniums.tumblr.com/)  
>  All comments appreciated! :)
> 
> [@Pondermoniums on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Pondermoniums)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fanart: Broken Chemistry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5163416) by [mushroomtale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomtale/pseuds/mushroomtale)




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